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The Concordia 



UNES WWTTEN BY: 



NATIVES AND RESIDENTS OF 
CONCORD, NEW HAMPSHIRE 



COMPILED BY 

ALMA JANE HERBERT 



<<? 



RUMFORD PRINTING COMPANY 
CONCORD, N. H. 1907 



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Gift 



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CONTENTS, 



Page. 

Faith 1 

Morning 2 

Evening 3 

Tahanto 4 

Spring 6 

Lafayette 6 

Omnipresence of Deity 7 

Tl^e Indians 8 

The Church in the Wilderness .... 10 

Down to the Sea in Ships 13 

Song 14 

'Lection 16 

I Move Into the Light 17 

The New Year , . 18 

Rain in April '^1 

How the Cabin Boy Saved the Fleet ... 22 

Search the Scriptures .25 

Crown Him 36 

A Song 28 

Song 30 

Song of the Yankee Farmer 32 

A June Song 34 

Lines 36 

Death of Lafayette 39 

BeFaitliful 40 

John Farmer 42 

June 45 

iii 



Hymn . , 

Stepping to the Stars 

Fourth of July . 

A Sabbath of Yore . 

A Song of Our Indians 

To Bunker Hill Monument 

Life . 

Little Edgar 

Winnipesaukee in Autumn 

Faithful and True 

The Best Science 

Reveille 

Devotion . 

Rattlesnake Hill 

Resignation 

Consecration 

Honor to Free Labor 

I 'm Going There 

The Bethel Flag 

Man is Not What He Wills 

Old Man of the Mountain 

Elizabeth Kneeland McFarland 

October Clouds and Sunshine 

Heiress Thou of All the Ages 

Love's Seasons . 

Sunset 

The Organ Fair 

The King's Device 

Unrest 

The Life Boat . 

Death of Webster 

The Cattle Show 

Forty Years 

The Martyr Lamb 



46 
48 
50 
53 
54 
55 
56 
57 
58 
60 
62 
64 
67 
68 
70 
71 
72 
74 
75 
76 
79 
80 
83 
84 
86 
88 
89 
90 
92 
94 
96 
97 
98 
100 



IV 



Forever and Forever 103 

The Vision 104 

To a Bride . . .108 

Selections . • 109 

A Button 110 

What 's in a Name 113 

Tekel 114 

Cliristmas Carol 117 

Burning of the North Church 118 

Old Names 120 

Hymn for Christmas 132 

Anita Garibaldi 124 

Awake, Awake 126 

Requiem - . 127 

Burial at Sea 128 

Hymn 130 

175th Anniversary Hymn 132 

Fair Freedom's Land 134 

The Broken Alabaster Box 135 

That Sweet Old Song 136 

Selections 138 

On the Wing 139 

Columbia's Emblem 140 

Selection 142 

Praise 143 

Notes 145 



GATHERING UP THE FRAGMENTS. 



FAITH. 

Nathaniel H. Carter. 

Holy Faith, bright spirit of the sky, 
Fixes on Heaven her meek, uplifted eye. 
Her own blind will to chasten, humbly learns. 
Some just design in weal or woe discerns, 
Subjects to Providence rebellious pride. 
And bids vain man in God alone confide. 
Clear is the light her vision sheds around. 
No schemes perplex, no mysteries confound. 
In all she sees, celestial wisdom blends. 
And present ill in future blessing ends. 
Judgment and mercy in her trials meet. 
And- every wish lies prostrate at her feet. 



MORNING. 

Rev. H. A. Coit, D. D. 

Lord, our hearts to Thee would rise, 
As the sun ascends the skies, 
And our daily work begin 
Freed by Thee from taint of sin. 

Thou who art our Light and Life, 
Fill each heart with love today, 

Banish jealousy and strife. 
Drive unholy thoughts away. 

As each hour fleets swiftly by. 
May it find us busied still, 

Storing Knowledge steadily. 

Knowledge of Thy ways and will. 

Help us all to patient be, 

Speaking truth in look and word. 
Fearing most of all, lest we 

In Thy sight seem useless. Lord. 

So the day which has begun 
Peacefully, will peaceful close. 

And when westward sinks the sun, 
Thou wilt give us sweet repose. 



EVENING. 
Rev. H. A. Coit, D. D. 

When the sun draws near his setting, 

In the cradle of the west, 
We, our daily toil forgetting, 

Think of home and peace and rest. 

And our hearts to Heaven ascending, 
When no night obscures the sky. 

Pardon ask for each offending, 
In His name who deigned to die. 

Evil word now past recalling, 

Precious hours this day misspent. 

Looks unkind on others falling. 
Help us, Saviour, to repent. 

For the days of life are flying, 
And the last night comes apace ; 

In that fearful hour of dying. 

Hide not, Lord, from us Thy face. 



TAHANTO. 

George Kent, Esq. 

Three Englishmen, who were at Penacook in June, 
1668, testify, ** That Tahanto, a Sagamore, being afraid 
that we had brought liquors to sell, desired us if we had 
any, that we would pour it upon the ground, for it 
would make the Indians all one Divill." 

Chieftain of a wasted nation ! 

Thine no words of promise were, 
But in hour of dark temptation, — 

Thine to do, and thine to dare ! 
When the white man hovering round thee, 

Tempted oft thy feet to stray, 
Indian shrewdness nobly bound thee 

To the straight and narrow way. 

With fire-water when invaded. 

Thine the evil to foresee, — 
Nature's light alone pervaded 

Minds that ranged the forest free ; 
But shame on thy Christian brother ! 

He with light of life endow'd. 
Sought with " liquid fire " to smother 

Life's true light in death's dark shroud. 

4 



When approaching with temptation, 

Thine to see and shun the snare, — 
Thine to utter from thy station, 

Firmly the prevailing prayer ; 
" Were of liquor, they the vender, 

On the gi-ound at once to pour, — 
For the Indians it would render 

All one devil, o'er and o'er." 

Honor to the chieftain ever ! 

High his name by fame enroU'd, — 
From his bright example never 

Be our own departure told ; — 
Meet for Penacook to rally 

Under his tee-total name, 
Whose resolve in her fair valley, 

Quench'd the demon's Uquid flame. 



SPRING. 
Miss Emma E. Brown. 

A sunlit sky and a scented earth, 

Blue hills and a bluer river, 
Cool forest depths where the springs have birth, 

Green fields where the grasses quiver. 

A fair, bright picture — without and within — 
Glad hope to my heart is bringing, 

For a golden thread do the grim Fates spin 
When they hear a redbreast singing. 



LAFAYETTE. 

Miss Mary Clark's tribute to Lafayette, which she 
handed into his carriage in a beautiful bouquet of flow- 
ers as he passed her home on leaving Concord, June 27, 
1824. 

Welcome, Oh, Lafayette ! 

All hail our Nation's Guest ! 

Honor'd by God's behest — 
We will never forget 
Our Country's and Washington's friend. 

May all thy friends meet thee, 

And angels glad greet thee. 
When this life's long journey shall end. 



OMNIPRESENCE OF DEITY. 

3Iiss Harriet Livermore. 

God is present everywhere, 

In heaven and earth, in sea and air. 

O'er mountain tops, in valleys low, 

Where the lofty forests bow ; 

In blackest night, or noonday clear, 

God is present everywhere. 

In the dashing torrent's roar. 
Or th' threatening tempest's power, 
In the fragrant breeze of spring, 
With the birds of loftiest wing ; 
Sun and moon and stars declare 
God is present everywhere. 

Most delightful is the thought. 
Saints cannot go where God is not. 
Present, to guard them by His power. 
In every scene and every hour ; 
Even in death's cold arms they sing, 
Our souls are safe beneath His wing. 



THE INDIANS. 

Believed to be the Lost Tribes of Israel. 

Harriet Livermore. 

Exalted majesty ! whose seat 
Is shadowed o'er by cherub feet, 

And wreathed with wings of gold ; 
Shine forth, shine forth, thou fairest one, 
And lead poor sorrowing Joseph home, 

Thy glory to behold. 

See where he roams an outcast now 
In forest, and on mountain's brow, 

A spoil and helpless prey ; 
Oppressed, dejected and forlorn, 
His miseries cry, turn. Savior, turn 

And help us, ere we die ! 

Divided into tribes and bands. 
Beyond the walls of Canaan's lands. 

How sad the outcast's state ; 
Their language broken and confused, 
By every nation sore abused — 

Ah ! sad, severe their fate. 



Convert from sin, and save from woe, 
The Ossage, Choctaw, Creek and Crow, 

The Kickapoo and Caw ; 
Mandan, Quapaw and Showshonee, 
The Delaware, the Cherokee, 

Oh, teach them all thy law ! 

Faith has the answer, and the flight 
To western lands is free and Ught, 

And hails the prospect sweet. 
When Joseph shall be carried home 
To Judah at Jerusalem, 

And bow at Shiloh's feet. 



THE CHURCH IN THE WILDERNESS. 

P. Carigain, Esq. 

Amid wild beasts, and wilder men, 
That roam'd the neighb'ring hill and glen, 
Your Fathers, as devout as brave. 
Near fair Merrimack's virgin wave. 

Founded this Church ; nor did they heed 
Hardship or danger, toil or need, 
If mid their trials they could prove 
Religious fellowship and love. 

With them the word to their last breath 
Was sacramental rites — or death ; 
And one hand held in war's alarms, 
The sacred cup — one, — loaded arms. 

Not those by Bab'lon's streams who sigh'd ; 
Not those whose faith by fire was tried ; 
No martyrs purer, firmer, trod 
This earth, than did that flock of God. 

Heirs of that Trust — on time's swift tide 
Another Century soon will glide, 
And give your sires the tribute due ; 
Will history speak as well of you? 

10 



Heirs of that Trust — to guard it stand 
Parents and children hand in hand ; 
Each should feel pledg'd that Trust to save- 
Pledg'd from the cradle to the grave. 



11 



"DOWN TO THE SEA IN SHIPS." 

O. Kent, Esq. 

Written for the first exhibition and sale, for the bene- 
fit of seamen, of articles manufactured by the Young 
Ladies' Seamen's Friend Society of Concord, October 
16, 1833. 

" Down to the sea in ships " 

The hardy Sailor goes — 
A safeguard to his country's friends, 

A teiTor to her foes. 
He perils life and limb — 

Foregoes the sweets of home — 
And day and night, his course is set 

Through trackless wastes to roam. 

To bring the wanderer nigh — 

Provide a port of peace — 
And, from the prison-ship of sin, 

Give the tir'd soul release : 
This — this is mercy's aim. 

This Woman's kind concern — 
For this the Bethel flag is rear'd 

And hearts with ardor burn. 



12 



So when the storms of life 

With us and him are o'er, 
The favoring gales of bomiteous Heaven 

May waft us safe ashore. 
"Aloft ! " the order given — 

"All 's well ! " the welcome cry — 
And songs of joy employ each tongue 

Throughout Eternity. 



13 



SONG. 

John W. Morse. 

The Concord Light Infantry celebrated the anniver- 
sary of the Battle of Bunker HiU, June 17, 1834. 

Here's the land of the brave and the home of the 
free, 
The country our Sires with their blood have de- 
fended ; 
The land where first flourished the Liberty Tree, 
Where we joy in those rights which from Heaven 
descended, — 
John Bull tried in vain 
With his tyrannous chain 
To bind the plumed eagle on land and on 
main; 
But the banner of Freedom was raised in our land, 
As a perch for the eagle, a flag for our band. 

Old Britain had thought Yankee valor to quake. 
When she sent us her stamp act and tax bill, ill- 
fated ; 
When her navy had whitened sea, river and lake. 
E'en when her tea with the ocean was mated ; 
But our fathers had swore 



A long time before 



14 



They 'd submit to the gag laws of Britain no 

more; 
And their prayer unto Heaven was, "Let us be 

free," 
And they wrote " Independence " on each box of 

tea. 

Long and hard was the struggle for Liberty, Law, 

But virtue and valor at length were victorious, 
And loud was the shout, when America saw, 

The hosts of Old England retreating, vain glo- 
rious ; 
Then Columbia's band 
Stood firm, hand to hand. 
And with thanks to the God of the sea and the 
land. 
They rejoiced that the star spangled banner might 

wave 
Independently over the home of the brave. 



15 



^LECTION. 

From the New Year's Address, 1851. 
George Kent^ Esq. 

I have lived to remember our grand "'Lection 
days," 

When horses and showmen call'd forth equal 
praise ; 

When " Major Pete's " gingerbread went the full 
rounds, 

And Pierce Richardson sold it, in cakes, not by 
pounds ; 

When Green Parker the multitude, staring, ha- 
rangued, 

And " Borough " and " Fush Market " each other 
banged ; 

When " Master Moore "handled his musical rappers, 

And " Old Daniel " play'd on his long, bony " clap- 
pers," 

And twisted his face to all kinds of grimaces, 

With the least sacrifice at the shrine of the graces. 

But " down in the lowlands " long since he has gone. 

And the " 'possum up gum-tree " is left all forlorn. 

The day has gone by to " hear " this " nigger holler,'* 

With no " second Daniel " his footsteps to follow. 



16 



«I MOVE INTO THE LIGHT."^ 

Ezra E. Adams. 

Out of the shadows that shroud the soul, 
Out of the seas where the sad waves roll, 
Far from the whirl of each mundane pole^ 
" I move into the light ! " 

Out of the region of cloud and rain, 
Out of the cares that oppress the brain. 
Out of the body of sin and pain, 
" I move into the light ! " 

Out of the struggles of Church and State,. 
Out of the empire of pride and hate. 
Up through the beautiful sapphire gate, 
" I move into the light ! " 

Beyond the noise of creation's jars. 
Higher than all the worlds and stars. 
Higher than limits of reason's bars, 
" I move into the light ! " 

We follow after to those high spheres. 
Notes of thy rapture fall on our ears ; 
Out of our darkness, our sins and fears,. 
We move into the light ! 



17 



THE NEW YEAR. 
Mrs. Abba G. Woolson. 

I hear you, blithe New Year, ring out your laughter 

And promises so sweet ; 
I see the circling months that follow after 

Arm-linked, with waltzing feet. 

Before my door I stand, to give you greeting, 

As swift you speed along. 
And hear afar the echoes still repeating 

Your trills of jocund song. 

White are the flying garlands that enwreathe you, 

Wove of the gleaming snow. 
And white the sloping fields that stretch beneath you. 

Mocking the sunset glow. 

You shout with glee, like sportive children flinging 

Wild roses in their play; 
And sweet your laughter sounds, Hke bells a-ringing 

At bridals far away, 

I sat bemoaning that the Year was waning, 

The Old Year, true and tried ; 
But at your voice I hush my sad complaining 

To win you to my side. 

18 



All ! happy cheinibs, I must trust your smiling, 

Your innocent, glad eyes. 
Though well I guess what power of fond beguiling 

In their enticement lies. 

And so I call across the buried clovers, 

Where dance your restless feet, 
And cry — Good speed, my merry troop of rovers, 

Your promises are sweet ! 

The snow-drifts shine before me in the valleys 

Where you say spring shall be ; 
And straight I picture blooming orchard alleys. 

With birds on every tree. 

Through all the night midwinter's moon is beaming, 

In cold, resplendent skies ; 
But, under boughs that glimmer in my dreaming, — 

June's leafy shadow Ues ; — 

And fancy sets the drowsy bees to humming 

Where lilacs flush and sway ; 
Forgetting, none the less, that their swift coming 

Must speed a chilUer day. 

Oh, youngest child of Time, no hint of sorrow 

Clouds your prophetic face ! 
And yet I know each radiant tomorrow 

Will lack a present grace. 

19 



In life, each spring time grows less fresh and tender, 

Each summer less divine ; 
I reap the harvests, but they fail to render 

The fruits that once were mine. 

Oh, give me back the loves your race have squan- 
dered, 

Those giddy, spendthrift years ! 
The sunlit paths wherein my feet have wandered, 

Youth's eagerness and tears; — 

And keep the strange, new gifts with which you 
cheat me. 

Luring my wistful gaze ; 
From out the past you may not bring to greet me, 

The friends of other days. 



RAIN IN APRIL. 

George Fred Kent. 

The gentle murmur of the dripping rain 
Comes like a strain of music to my ear ; 
It is the blithest time of all the year 

To me, this early springtime, when again 

The barren trees, and the long covered plain 
Begin to gather beauties far and near, 
CulUng fresh flowers to strew upon the bier 

Of the departed winter. Not in vain 

Those buds and blossoms of the spring come forth, 
Like the first glints of genius, they give sign 

Of a large hoard of wealth and hidden worth 
That, Uke rich jewels buried in a mine. 

Is locked within the summer's treasury. 

All shrouded from the gaze of careless eye. 



21 



HOW THE CABIN BOY SAVED THE 
FLEET. 

(A Ballad of the Fleet, 1666.) 

Miss Emma E. Brown. 

It was on one August morning — 
Just between the dusk and dawning — 
When, without a word of warning, 
The Dutch fleet came down the bay 
Where the English vessels lay. 
And their hissing shot and shell 
On the British flagship fell 

Till two masts were torn away. 

Then brave Narborough discerning 
How the battle tide was turning, 

Strove in vain to signal aid, 

Midst the bUnding cannonade. 
Till he called in accents loud : 
"Is there one among this crowd 

Who will risk his life for all?" 

Swift in answer to his call 
Came a lad with eager face ; 

" Take and use me, sir," he said, 
"You can spare me from my place, 

And of death I 'm not afraid ! " 

22 



So the cabin boy that day, 

Midst the thunder and the flame, 

Swam across the seething bay — 

Far across — a floating speck. 
Till at last unharmed he came 

Where the waiting allies lay. 
"Tis a miracle!" they said. 
And as one raised from the dead 

So they drew him up on deck. 

Thus it was when hope had fled 
From the British ranks that day 
And the fleet, with sore dismay. 
Saw their wounded and their dead, 
Falling fast on every side, 

Suddenly there came in sight — 
Bearing down upon the right — 
With fresh guns, fresh men, fresh nerve. 
All the longed-for grand " reserve," 
And they scattered far and wide 
All the enemy that night. 

Then, amidst the shouts of joy, 
Narborough called the dauntless boy 

Who had turned the tide of war : 
"Honor unto whom 'tis due. 
And we owe it all to you 
Cloudsley Shovel, brave and true ! " 

Said the admiral, who foresaw 



23 



Even then, the grand career, 
Of this boy so void of fear; 
And while cheer rose after cheer 

For the hero of the hour : 
"May I live," old Narborough cried, 

" Till I see you, lad, in power, 
Till one day I see you stand 
On the ship that you command." 

Years passed on — his wish came true, 

For the admiral Uved to see 
Cloudsley Shovel admiral, too ! 

Well we know his history : 

Victory after victory 
Crowned the cabin boy's career 

And Westminster's nave today, 
'Mongst her knights that knew no fear 

Deathless keeps his name alway. 



24 



SEARCH THE SCRIPTURES. 

Miss Harriet Liver more. 

Yea, Holy Jesus ! in the sacred page 
Thy testimony rings from age to age : 
Of thee did Moses write and prophets sing, 
Their glorious antitype, their heavenly king. 
Thy advent first to suffer love and die, 
Thy resurrection and ascent on high. 
Thy mediatorship at God's right hand, 
Thy second coming to the holy land. 

Ye Gentile people ! hasten to obey 
The Saviour's Word, and search it day by day. 
Praying that scales and beams may leave your eyes, 
That ye may see by faith, by faith may rise 
On eagle's wings to hail the approaching hour 
When Christ shall come — in majesty and power ; 
For come he will, and soon his cloudy car 
Will sweep the heavens of every glittering star ; 
His presence shame the sun, confound the moon, 
While round his brow there shines eternal noon ! 



25 



CROWN HIM. 

Rev. Ezra E. Adams. 

Bring a garland for His brow, 
Pour your incense at His feet, 
Ye who stand around His seat. 
Who in His bright presence bow : 
Crown Him ! crown Him ! wondrous story, 
Jesus is the King of Glory. 

Weave for Him a diadem 

Ye who know His mighty love, 
From the worlds, below, above, 
Gather every priceless gem. 
Crown Him ! crown Him ! wondrous story, 
Son of man, yet King of Glory. 

Be His brow with splendor crowned, 
Thorns once pierced His gentle head. 
He was numbered with the dead ; 
In His blood our sins were drowned. 
Crown Him! crown Him! wondrous story, 
Jesus died, the King of Glory. 

All the church in Heaven and earth. 
Cast your crowns before His throne. 
He redeemed you, He alone ; 

36 



Magnify His matchless worth. 
Crown Him ! crown Him ! wondrous story, 
Jesus rose, the King of Glory. 

Every sceptered one below. 
Principalities above. 
Celebrate His boundless love — 
His eternal grandeur show. 
Crown Him ! crown Him ! wondrous story, 
Jesus reigns, the King of Glory. 



27 



A SONG. 

Written by John W. Morse and Sung by Maj. J. E. 
EsTABROOK, July 4, 1834. 

Most glorious day, most happy horn*, 

That saw a nation free, 
What freeman's heart but feels thy power, 

But joys thy dawn to see ? 
What patriot's soul but hails the time, 

When freedom's foes were quelled, 
When liberty and truth sublime, 

O'er Britain's arms prevailed. 

Renowned in arms — unconquered still, 

Columbia's sons are free ; 
They ever fought and ever will, 

For equal Hberty. 
No tyrant's chain can bind them low. 

Their rights are well made known ; 
No chain of earth or air they know. 

They bow to God alone. 

On freedom's soil, where brave men stood, 

The sons still love their sires ; 
Where love of country warms the good. 

And every heart insph-e.s ; 

28 



The despot's power no throne can find 
Where freedom prompts a prayer. 

If science, learning, sway the mind 
No crown can flourish there. 

Let future ages hymn their deeds, 

And future nations blest, 
Remember them — though they 'have gone 

To realms of endless rest. 



29 



SONG. 

For the Cattle Show and Fair, 1837. 
Jacob B. Moore. 

While at the festive board we throng 
Where autumn's glories shine — 

Let 's tune our voices to a song, 
Of auld lang syne. 

For auld lang syne, my dear. 

And surely you '11 your voices raise, 
And surely I '11 raise mine — 

Rememb'ring first the Giver's praise 
Who pours the oil and wine. 

The farmer, he whose patient toil 
The teeming earth has crown'd ; 

Whose garners all with wine and oil 
And plenteous stores abound ; 

The farmer, he whose careful eye 

His own fair acres scans — 
For East or West who heaves no sigh, 
Content with his own lands ; 

No wondrous dream of wealth he sees 

In promised lands away — 
Nor seeks for gold in — Maine pine trees 

Or Mississippi clay. 

30 



Home ! happy home ! to him is dear 

Th' home by auld lang syne — 
Our fathers all were prosper'd here 
In auld lang syne. 
Though winter lengthen out his chain, 

Or summer drought prevail — 
Seed-time and harvest shall remain, 
The promise cannot fail. 

Should storms against the lofty beat, 

Proud fabrics laying low — 
Or folly, spread at ruin's feet. 
The bloated cities show — 

We'll still enjoy our humbler fare. 

Nor at our lot repine. 
Lessons we see that banish care 
In auld lang syne. 

Then come, young men, and old men, all!' 

United let us be ! 
And swear, whate'er our land befall. 
We ever will be free ! 

The liberty our fathers won 

In auld lang syne — 
We '11 save, and pass from sire to son 
For auld lang syne. 



31 



SONG OF THE YANKEE FARMER. 

Our boast is not of castled homes 

Upon our thousand hills ; 
Our boast is not of noble blood 

That through our veins distills ; 
No ! 't is our pride that we were born 

In Freedom's chainless clime, 
And if escutcheon we would bear, 
The plough were choice sublime. 
We're tillers of our Yankee land. 

We're stalwart men and true 
Who toil with ready heart and hand 
Where'er there 's work to do. 

We reck not that our clime 's without 

The charm of classic fame ; 
Enough for us that Freedom here 

Relit her altar flame. 
To us this has a sweeter charm 

Than clusters round the graves 
Where Roman chiefs unhonored lie 
Beneath their children's slaves. 
We 're toilers of our Yankee land, 

And sons of freeborn men. 
Who hurled oppression from its strand 
To ne'er return again. 



Our homes are on ten thousand hills, 

And yet our hearts are one — 
Our voice is heard at Washington, 

Our will is ever done. 
We love our Home and ne'er will seek 

For brighter streams afar, 
Than those which sing our eyes to sleep 
Beneath our evening star. 

We 're toilers of our Yankee land 

And delve with hearty pride 
To. make it fairer than the strand 
Of Arno's classic tide. 



33 



A JUNE SONG. 

Arthur Richmond Kimball. 

Ha, bobolink ! June's joy, 

Upward with you ; 
A-wing 'tween gardens green 

And Heaven's blue. 

Your song is as the mirth 

Of bubbling springs. 
Caught up by breezes soft 

And given wings. 

Nay, 'tis an unseen joy 

Bent down to kiss 
Enfolding man in all 

New nature's bUss. 

Your voice, there is no care, 

Green is the spot; 
The heaven's wide blue above, 

And care forgot. 

Your voice, a-wing alight 

O'er tufted sod, 
Where honej^suckles swing 

And violets nod, 

34 



A perfume from the flowers, 

A sky-born sound, 
Wafted on breeze of wings 

To budding ground. 

Broad bowl of meadow green. 

Enclosing brim 
Of vale-encircling hills 

With leafy limb. 

With farmhouse pictm-ing peace 

In cloudlike white. 
Fair measure for your flow 

Of poured delight. 

As cloud, now Alp, now hill. 

Now lost in air, — 
June sings and vanishes 

The cloud of care. 



35 



LmES. 

Mary S. Nelson. 

(Miss Nelson became the wife of Judge Ira Perley.) 

To the memory of Mrs. Lucia Amie Farrand Kent, 
wife of George Kent, Esq., and president of the Concord 
Female Anti-Slavery Society, who departed this life 
February 12, 1838, aged 39 years. "Blessed are the 
dead who die in the Lord. ' ' 

How shall we say thou art gone, 

O best and loveliest one ! 
Yet here in this so darkened earth 

With cheerful faith live on ? 
Taught sadly of life's fading joys 

That died and went with thee, 
How shall our sorrowing love bow down 

Humbly to Heaven's decree. 



The beauty of thy daily life 

On ours like sunshine came, 
And those shall bless thy memory, 

Who only heard thy name. 
And those who knew thy name nor face, 

If prayers are heard in heaven — 
The suffering and the dying slave, 

For whom thine own were given. 



33 



Thou wert — but words are faint and weak 

To those who knew thee most, 
And tears to strangers feebly speak 

Of what we've loved and lost — 
O grateful should we rather be 

That thou wert once our own, 
Than murmur at thy parting hence. 

Or weep that thou art gone. 

A humble yet a trusting faith 

Was thine, and it is ours, 
And therefore can we calmy look 

Upon our dying flowers ; 
And therefore can we see thee go. 

Our loveliest and our best. 
And yet that hope sublime and high 

Be still our bosom's guest. 



We walk upon this changing earth 

As in a troubled sleep. 
And dreams fantastic throng the heart 

And night is round us deep ; 
We dream of something we have been. 

Of something we shall be, 
But when the death-film shrouds the eyes 

The soul may clearly see. 



37 



May see what mortal hath not seen, 

Nor mortal ear hath heard, 
Nor heart conceived, nor hope desired, 

E'en from His promise word : 
And happy thou when darkness fell 

Upon thy earthly sight 
To go where every shadow melts 

In full, unclouded light. 

I wished, when thou wert smiling near, 

My life like thine could be — 
O more is left to pray for now — 

That I might die like thee ; 
Live with unselfish life like thine, 

And loved with such a love. 
And dying, seek what thou hast found 

Our Father's home above. 



38 



DEATH OF LAFAYETTE. 

P. Carigaw, Esq.^ 1834, 

His sun is set ; the Nation's Guest 

No more shall hear our mountain cheers ; 

But his dear mem'ry fills each breast, 
Kept fresh and green by grateful tears. 

Angels, Fayette, thy name revere ! 

In life, in death, to Freedom true ; 
Her champion in each hemisphere ; 

Her pride in th' Old World and the New. 

A patriot, pure in plans of state ; 

A Hero prov'd in fields of blood ; 
He shone on Earth for he was great, 

He shines in Heaven for he was good. 

Bright'ning through time and space, each hour ; 

His virtues more and more unfurl'd. 
The Tyrant's and the Bigot's power 

Will yet o'erthrow, and free the World. 



39 



"BE FAITHFUL." 

Joseph Horace KimbaJL 
First Editor of 'ihe Herald of Freedom. 

Those blessed words are round me, 

Like a message from above, 
A spell of light and mercy, 

A talisman of love. 
They will be a tone of warning. 

Thrilling w^heresoe'r I go. 
And affections drawings upwards 

That would linger here below. 

They will be to me in trial, 

And the strife with sin and wrong. 
Like the whispering of voices 

That to higher spheres belong. 
They will give the heart of fire. 

And a light unto the brain. 
And an energy of purpose 

That the world cannot restrain. 

40 



When the tide of passion heaveth 

Dark and wildly in the breast, 
They will brood upon the spu'it 

Like a halcyon of rest ; — 
And the mind with storms around it, 

Shall unshaken go abroad, 
Looking up through cloud and tempest 

Unto Heaven, and peace and God. 



41 



JOHN FARMER. 

Geonje Kent, Esq. 

In memory of John Farmer, Esq. , corresponding sec- 
retary of tlie New Hampsliire Anti-Slavery Society and 
of the New Hampshire Historical Society, who died at 
Concord, August 13, 1838, aged 49 years. 

Justum ac tenacem propositi virum. 

The silver cord of life is loos'd and dust returns to 

dust, 
Heaven has reclaimed of selfish earth a high and 

holy trust; 
A brother and a friend has gone to join the glad 

employ 
Of ransomed souls, secure in bliss, refined from 

earth's alloy. 

" The memory of the just is blessed," — so shall thy 

memory be 
Green in our hearts, thou friend beloved, till earthly 

shadows flee ; 
When merg'd in substance things of time eternal 

shall become. 
Our hope shall be to meet again in heaven, our 
happy home. 

42 



But while sojourning here below we cannot cease 

to weep, — 
It is " the privilege of woe " its vigils thus to keep ; 
To grieve that one of gifts so rare is summon'd 

from our sight, 
But mourn with hope and trust in Him who doeth 

all things right. 

Fair Science mourns a votary gone, of power and 

will to aid 
Her struggling sons, in quest of light, in Academic 

shade ; 
And History's muse, her harp unstrung, pours forth 

the sad bewail, 
Of ancient lore that none remain so well to tell the 

tale. 

A sorrow like no other grief is felt that one so 

good, 
Of zeal so strong and heart so warm for human 

brotherhood. 
So firm in faith that right must soon o'er " ancient 

fraud" prevail. 
Should from his Master's work on earth depart 

while foes assail. 

Would that the summons might have come when 

slavery had ceased. 
The " good Samaritan " displaced the " Levite and 

the Priest" — 

43 



When broken has been every yoke and sundered 

every chain 
That binds to earth immortal souls made with their 

God to reign. 

Thy generous spirit then had joy'd at sight of 
earthly bliss — 

In full fruition had been found thy bosom's happi- 
ness. 

But not our will, Parent Supreme, thine, thine 
alone be done, 

We bow in silence and adore O Thou Eternal One • 



44 



JUNE. 
Miss E. E. Brown. 

Life-giving summer rides 

Fresh o'er the plain, 
Brightly the billow glides 

Up from the main, 
Daily the little bird 

Warbles at morn, 
Nature's grand psalm is heard,. 

Beauty is born. 

Green are the maple bowers. 

Each tiny leaf 
Nods to the dewy flowers 

Waking from grief. 
Flora's rich gifts of bloom 

Deck e'en the thorn. 
Speak not of shroud and tomb^,, 

Beauty is born. 



45 



HYMN. 

Dedication of the South Church, February, 1, 1837. 

Hon. N. G. Upham. 

To Thee, O God, with joy we raise, 
In these, Thy courts, our songs of praise. 
And dedicate this shrine to Thee — 
Sacred, incarnate Mystery. 

So when Thy chosen temple rose 
O'er Judea's land of fearful woes, 
Thy children met in gladness there, 
To consecrate Thine house with prayer. 

And now, in Western lands afar. 
Led hither by Thy Bethlehem star, 
God of our fathers ! while we here 
Erect Thine altars, be Thou near. 

Here be Thy power and glory known 
By clouds of incense from Thy throne ; 
And here the broken-hearted soul. 
At touch of Thine be rendered whole. 

46 



These sacred symbols often prove, 
To grateful hearts Thy dying lo^ e ; 
And life's young hours with joy begin 
With sprinkUngs from Thy crystal sprin< 

Here may thy banners wave abroad 
Inscribed with " Holiness to the Lord " ; 
And peace and love long years to come, 
Make this our favored Gospel Home. 



47 



STEPPING WITH THE STARS. 

Rev. Ezra E. Adams. 

The coiled elastic spring of steel 

Imprisoned in its brazen bars 
Turning each ruby-balanced wheel, 

Measures its motion with the stars. 

The heart's low pulse and firmer beat, 
The throbbing of the burdened brain^ 

The music of a million feet. 

On hill-top and in grassy plain ; 

The sea's majestic ebb and flow, 

A ripple on the crystal rill, 
The gentle falling of the snow. 

The bird-note and the viol's trill — 

With these and in the march of thought, 

In passion ripened into wars. 
In the great things that time has wrought, 

Our life is stepping \vith the stars. 

It is not peace that reigns alone, 
In those stupendous globes of fire. 

But rent and scarred from zone to zone, 
They melt and crumble and exj^ire. 

48 



Oh, there are discords in the Avires 

That vibrate through the mighty maze, 

Om- warring notions and desires 
Are types of life beyond om* gaze. 

Nay, discord is but harmony, 

Which mortals do not understand ; 

The laugh, the thunder and the sigh, 
Touch in one note the immortal strand. 

A rhythm pervades the universe ; 

All things to one grand measure march- 
The words and letters of our verse, 

And worlds in yonder jeweled arch. 

We rotate in our little cell 

And touch each other through the bars : 
But God hath ordered all things well. 

He keeps us stepping with the stars. 

Nay, from a grander height we see 

Creation groaning in its bars, 
And our own lives in turn to be 

Goals for the stepping of the stars. 



49 



FOURTH OF JULY. 

T. D. P. Stone, Later Rev. T. D. P. Stone. 
(First Principal of Concord Literary Institution.) 

Our father's pledge yet stands unbroken, 
Still, still our land is fair and free ; 

Again, this day that vow is spoken. 
We pledge our lives to liberty. 

When foes arise, and dangers threaten, 
No hostile navies on our coast. 
No fierce descent of foreign host. 

Shall e'er our dauntless spirits frighten. 

We '11 shed our blood like rain 
Before a single stain. 
Shall soil our name 
Or mar our fame 

Or furl our banners bright. 



Our father's God can still support us. 

And save, though darkest storms may lower 

50 



To Thee — our God — we come, adoring 
Thy mercy now so long our shield ; 

Protection we are still imploring, 
Protection thou alone canst yield. 

Wilt Thou our rights maintain. 
Wilt Thou our foes restrain — 
While Temperance, Peace 
And Joy increase 

Beneath our banner bright. 



51 



A SABBATH OF YORE. 

The Day before the Massacre > 

M. Clark. 

In August, '46, came down 

Direct from Canada, 

A hundred Indians near about. 

Yet did the people not forget 

The holy Sabbath day ; 
In their log meeting-house they met 

To hear, and praise, and pray. 

Each carrying his gun, went in. 
For fear what might betide ; 

And Parson Walker there was seen. 
With musket by his side. 

No prayer fi'om feigned lips arose — 
With death and danger near, 

Their cries to Heaven we may suppose 
Went up from hearts sincere. 

Hid in an alder thicket, nigh 
The meeting-house, the foe 

[A little girl did them espy] 
Were laid in ambush low. 



A military compan}^ 

Had come the place to guard, 
Yet truly might the people say 

Their help was from the Lord ; 

For not a single hand was raised 
To harm them on that day ; 

They safely came unto the place 
And safely went away. 



53 



A SONG OF OUR INDIANS. 

From Mr. Kerifs Ode. 

Pas'conaway's kindly aid 
That erst bad been display'd 

Was now withdrawn ; 
And Wonalancet's skill, 
Ready each feud to still, 
And cultivate good will, 

A hope forlorn. 

Wild Kancamagus, too. 
With love could not imbue 

His recreant sons ; 
But Hope-Hood's hostile art 
Possessed each mind and heart, 
And led them to depart 

From peace at once. 



54 



TO BUNKER HILL MONUMENT 

A. H. Bailey. 

Oh, mays't thou ever stand 
A bulwark to the land, 
While oceans round it roll ; 
May North and South uphold 
Our heritage of old ; 
From East to farthest West, 
May Freedom's home be blest 
And every freeman's soul 
Behold in thee a sign 
Of One Whose hand divine, 
Shall keep it whole. 



55 



LIFE. 
Rev. N. F. Carter. 

I see the lily on the water's brim, 

So stainless, pure and sweet. 

For heavenly airs made meet. 
It whispers to my listening soul of Ilim, 

With every glory rife, 

Who is, and gives, the life ! 

I lift my waiting eyes to His dear face. 

And marvel at the sight. 

So full of Heaven's own light ! 
I long to know the fulness of His grace, 

And feel His life divine. 

Fast flowing into mine ! 

I long to have His more abundant life. 

Its quickened currents feel. 

Through all my being steal. 
Assured, when past earth's hindrances and strife 

Like His, my life shall be. 

From every blemish free ! 

" I am the Life," so runs His blessed word ! 

I read it o'er and o'er. 

And wonder more and more. 
Till in my inmost being deeply stirred, 

To make His life divine, 

Now and forever mine ! 

56 



LITTLE EDGAR 

Died at Three and a Half Years. 

S. J. S. A. 

Out of the darkness into the light, 

Up from earth's sadness, quick to heaven's gladness, 

Reaching the goal. 
Here in the mists of earth, baffled its flight, 
There in the sweetness of home's completeness 

Safe rests his soul. 



57 



WINNEPESAUKEE IN AUTUMN. 

Dr. A. P. Chesley. 

The autumn shades that line the lake 
Will well repay a trip to take, 
To where the cloud-capped peaks afar 
The mass of colors seem to bar. 

The red, yellow and shades of green, 
The hills and dales that intervene, 
Where lights and shadows o'er them play 
Give splendid visions all the way. 

The shore recedes and then draws near. 
Peak after peak you see appear. 
Mount Washington swings into line 
With snow-crowned top and dim outline. 

Chocorua lifts her tricapp'd head, 
While Paugus and Tripyramid 
And Sandmch Dome and Whiteface bold 
Were never fairer to behold. 



58 



Then Moosilauke and Ossipee, 
And Cardigan all fair to see, 
Old Cropple Crown and Belknap too, 
With many others fill the view. 

This brilliant sight will well repay 
The spending of one pleasant day. 
Its mem'ry with you long will last 
When days of foliage are past. 



£9 



FAITHFUL AND TRUE. 

Rev. N. F. Carter. 

Faithful and True ! Like no other one 
Lender the sun, 
Age after age growing hoary 
In grey eternity's run ! 
This is the good tidings of sacred story ! 
This is forever Thy glory ! 

Faithful in words of sure promise to all 
Hearing Thy call 

With an adoring surrender, 

High-born or low-born, or great or small, 
Full of compassion, so gracious and tender. 

Like the sun shining in splendor ! 

True to Thyself, true to lover and friend, 
True to the end ! 
Helping them over hard places. 

Whithersoever their pathway may tend. 
Light of the light of their radiant faces. 
Crown of the crown of Thy graces ! 

60 



Faithful and True ! Going forth to fight, 
Girded with might, 
The foes of Jehovah assailing. 

Battling with wrong for the reign of right ! 
Leading Thy hosts with purpose unfailing, 

Triumph shall follow — Thine arms are availing 1 



61 



THE BEST SCIENCE. 
Rev. Ezra E. Adams. 

Thou knowest all gems of the secret mine ; 

The blush of the ruby, the diamond's glow, 
But canst thou the " Pearl of great price " call thine 

And dost thou the " stone laid in Zion " know ? 

All trees of the forest, all plants of the field, 
All flowers of the meadow and mountain to thee 

A myriad forms of the beautiful yield 
As thine eye bends into their mystery. 

But the " root and the offspring of David," the rose 
That bloomed in the " valley of Sharon," that 
wept 

Its dews in Gethsemane's garden of woes 
And folding its petals on Calvary slept. 

These, these must thou know, and deep in thy heart 
Their balm and their fragrance, must melt and 
and diffuse 
Else cold in thy learning and science thou art 
Thy thoughts sickly blossoms, unblessed by the 
dews. 



Through the sweep of the planets thine eye goes 
afar 
In search of a sun that ne'er gave us his light, 
But tell me if ever the " Bright Morning Star " 
Caught thy wondering gaze in the empire of 
night ? 

Thou drinkest the spirit of life and of love 
In the murmuring waters of the musical air, 

In the gold and blue of the heavens above, 
In the glory of earth opening everywhere. 

But the " Infinite Beauty " His image must trace 
In the depths of thy busy and wandering heart ; 

Thou must give to the love of the Holy a place. 
Ere thou like the Holy and Beautiful, art. 



63 



REVEILLE. 

Rev. D. C. Roberts. 

In the East, the fan- banners of dawn brightly 
glancing, 

Dismay the dark host of the shadows of night. 
And afar the battalions of day are advancing 

To conquer the gloom with their lances of hght ! 
On the mountains are kindled the beacons of morn- 
ing, 

The clouds of the West are alight with its glow, 
And the glimmering flush with its gold is adorning 

The pines on the hill and the birches below. 

Where the brook in the valley in darkness was 
sleeping. 
The mist broods above like a wandering dream. 
And the stars gleaming faint in the twilight, still 
keeping 
Their guard, look in vain for the smile of the 
stream. 

64 



There 's a movement of mystery, deep as the foun- 
tains 
Of life, — a sweet tension that 's felt in the air ; 
Now the fogs in the vale and the woods on the 
mountains, 
Are touched by its movement, its tenderness 
share. 

Now its thrill comes to senses enchanted by slum- 
bers. 
And breaks the soft links of the bondage of 
sleep ; 
And it kindles the pulse with aerial numbers 

Of harmonies, wordless and matchless and deep. 
On the dim, haunted marches of cloud-land it trem- 
bles. 
The mystical border of waking and dreams ; 
Its very existence it meekly dissembles 

'Twixt music that 's real and music that seems. 

Hark! the silence finds voice, and the throbbing 
vibration 
Of daylight is vocal in jubilant notes ! 
From the fountains of music, with vivid pulsation, 

In waves of delight the glad melody floats. 
'Tis the heart-stirring peal of the trumpeter's warn- 
ing, 
The bugle's clear accents dissolving the spell 



65 



That is woven of dreams and of light and of morn- 
ing, 
Whose wonder and mystery words will not tell. 

As the fogs of the valley have risen and vanished, 

So dreams, that dissolve in the tumult of day. 
By the sound of the stirring reveille are banished, 

While drum-beat and trumpet drive slumber 
away. 
Lo ! the morning begins with the roll-call of duty, 

Each hero responds to the sound of his name 
As the red sun is rising in glorious beauty, — 

Calm evening shall echo the roll-call of fame. 



66 



DEVOTION. 

Harry B. Metcalf. 

There are no words that e'en in sweetest song 
Can bear to thee the tributes of my heart, 

That eagerly unto my dumb lips throng, 

But cannot pass beyond, so beautiful thou art ! 

And so, when God seems nearest, and on high 
Has set the kind star tokens of his care, 

I thank him for his love, and silently 

Pay thee the tribute of my soul, its purest prayer. 



67 



RATTLESNAKE HILL. 

(From Mrs. L. G. Carr's Fine Poem Entitled 
Rattlesnake Hill.) 

O Rattlesnake ! Robbed, ravished, rent ! 

In your own gi'itty ashes veiled ! 
What wonder to your face is lent, 
A savage look of discontent ! 

Well-trodden paths in tangled maze, 

That nowhere start and nowhere end. 
That turn and double on their ways, 
Cross, curve, then vanish while we gaze, 

Beguile us through their lines to wend. 
Till that charmed height to memory flits 
Where Rip Van Winkle lost his wits. 

We break fi'om the enthralling lead 

And strike straight out through brier and bush, 
Though brambles cling, though roots impede. 
Though burry growths deck us with seed. 

Right on and up our way we push 
Till the last stepping-stone is past 
And we are on the height at last. 



Ah, now look east ! Ah, now look west ! 

Vermont and Maine may here cross hands ; 
And there — the Merrimack at rest 
In qiiiet beauty ! That is best ! 

A sunny stream with sunny lands, 
Dear to the hearts that know its ways 
As cherished friends, as vanished days ! 



69 



RESIGNATION. 

Miss Harriet Livermore. 

The snow-white lily of the vale 

Perfumes the ambiant air, 
The wild-rose blushes in the dell, 

And drops her beauties there. 

could I hide my timid head 
Among those humble flowers, 

And think upon the hallowed dead 
That bloom in Eden's bowers ! 

The moss my couch, my covering dew, 

And tears my lone repast. 
My song, the wild dove's anthem true, 

Should tell my joys are past. 

But, oh, why do I thus forget 

A mother's soft command, 
" Be firm, and to thy God submit. 

Adore His chastening hand." 

1 will, I will, thou spirit dear ; 
Kind Heaven lend thy aid. 

And to my orphan heart appear 
Its shield, its sun, its shade. 



70 



CONSECRATION. 

Miss Harriet Livermore. 

I give myself to Thee — 

My all to God resign ; 
O make my heart from error free, 

And seal that heart on Thine. 

In life I would Thee serve 
With every fleeting breath, 

And ask for overcoming faith 
To praise Thy name in death. 

And when the Monster's dart 
Shall break the vital string, 

May I with joy from earth depart 
And rise thy love to sing. 



71 



HONOR TO FREE LABOR. 

Charles L. Wheeler. 

Forget a while the hero names 

That blaze in ancient story ; 
The humbler hero of today 

May claim his meed of glory. 
The Plough, the Anvil and the Loom 

Shall have historic pages, 
And he that makes shall well deserve 

The praise of future ages. 

Who makes a blade of grass to grow 

Where all before was arid. 
Is greater than the victor king 

With kingdoms tributaried. 
The Plough runs smoothly o'er their graves 

Who toiled in War's endeavor ; 
The harvest waves where once they fought, 

And there shall wave forever ! 

Who swings aloft the ponderous Sledge 

Some useful thing to fashion. 
Is nobler than the lily hand 

The slave of lust and passion. 

73 



Whatever springs from Labor's hand 
Is free from shame and sorrow ; 

Its columned shaft shall catch the light 
That soonest dawns tomorrow. 

To make — it is to rule a world 

Of Genius' own creation ; 
To toil — it is to beautify 

For Time's perpetuation. 
To each and all whose Genius teems 

With things of worth and beauty, 
Be freely poured the Muse's praise, - 

A pleasure and a duty. 



73 



'^'M GOING THERE." 

Rev. Ezra E. Adams. 

See'st thou yon footpath in the forest green ? 

To mercy-seat it leads — a place of prayer ; 
When care oppresses, by the world unseen, 

That is my spirit's home ; I 'm going there. 

In the far distance, dwellings cluster round. 
The village steeple towers in the air ; 

The Sabbath-bell prolongs its welcome sound, 
To worship calling us ; I 'm going there. 

Around are willows waving; dying flowers 

Breathe farewell odors o'er the mansion, where 

Unheeded pass the solitary hours, 

And death in stillness reigns ; I 'm going there. 

Look upward thro' the starry plains of even. 
Where the untrodden realms of ether are; 

Faith sees, beyond their bounds, the Christian's 
heaven. 
With all its bright and blest ; I 'm going there. 



74 



THE BETHEL FLAG. 

P. Carrigain^ Esq. 

(For the Ladies' Seamen's Friend Society's Sale.) 

All hail, Bethel-Flag-Stars ! Oh, were they beam- 
ing 
Where'er howls the sea-wind, or rolls the sea- 
wave, 
Bless'd be the fair Almoner's zeal, for redeeming 
From darkness the race of the gen'rous and 
brave. 

For the scourges of famine and pestilence join'd 
Reign not o'er a land with such gloomy control. 

Or a thousand Bastiles with tlieir dangers combin'd 
As the night-fog of ignorance shrouding the soul 

Ye cities and towns, fields and gardens that bloom ; 
Wealth, Science, the Arts — we owe all to the 
Seamen ; 
But for him earth had been one whole desert of 
gloom, 
And wild clans its tenants — not Christians and 
Freemen. 

And shame on the people of all chmes so tardy 
To pay a small part of the vast debt they owe. 

For improving this class so exposed and so hardy 
In all seas and seasons — in fire, frost and snow. 

75 



MAN IS NOT WHAT HE WILLS. 
Rev. Leonard Swain. 

Man is not what he wills ; the very sky 

Hath not a powerless cloud but looketh down 
In meek compassion, as it floateth by, 

On us born subjects of a smile or frown. 
There 's not an upstart, vagrant wind but drives 

His passive spirit on its lightest breath ; 
The unsinewed giant so no longer strives, 

Though o'er his maddened eye careens the shak- 
en ed death. 

Man is not what he wills ; and oh, 'tis joy. 

That not a spell- clad spirit is his foe ; 
No bloodless wizard, patient to destroy. 

Binds on the fatal ring, the charm of woe ! 
For aye, the magic circle when it breaks, 

Goes up with fleeing symphonies on high ; 
And a wild thrill of ecstacy awakes, 

Above the grief that mourns his lost captivity. 

Man is not what he wills ; for far above, 

And from beneath, the thwarting currents roll, 

And Nature's mighty magazine of love 

Ten thousand times shall overcome his soul, 



And wheresoe'er his chosen path shall tend, 
His charmed footsteps keep but half the way ; 

A cloud, a sound, a very flower, shall send 

An overflowing flood, and bear him wide astray. 

Man is not what he wills ; hast thou not seen 

The stern, strong force unbrace itself again. 
When a soft breath went by, with thoughts be- 
tween. 

That never touched his iron soul till then ? 
The harsh, determined visage, how it tells 

A sudden tale of years long past and gone! 
The worldly, rugged bosom, how it swells 

With quick o'ercoming tides, from youth's far 
ocean drawn ! 

Man is not what he wills ; the simple child 
That, panting, hunts the dreamy butterflj^. 

Doth pause as sudden, of his prey beguiled, 
A smitten victim of the western sky. 

When o'er the burning hills it takes the sun 
To that bright place of happiness and gold ; 

And as he turns away, the lesson done, 

He goes another child, by other thoughts controlled. 

Man is not what he wills ; the time hath been 
When he whose hand doth whet the midnight 
steel 

Hath bowed his head, all gray with age and sin. 
To hear the hamlet bell's sweet, distant peal, 

77 



He had not cared to hear, but in his breast 

Were things of kindred with that human sound ; 
The answering memories break their long, long 
rest, 
And thought and tears are born, and penitence 
profound. 

Man is not what he wills ; uncounted powers 

Beset each single footstep of his way. 
And like the guardian spirits of the flowers. 

Charm each malignant, poisonous breath away ; 
And so by guileless things is man beguiled. 

And sweetly chastened in his earthly will. 
While every thwarting leaves him more a child. 

With childUke sense of good, and childlike dread 
of ill. 

Man is not what he wills ; a deep amen 

O'ercomes the grateful spirit as it hears ; 
" Thy will not mine be done," it breathes again 

To Him who sits above the circling years. 
The weak doth find supporters, and the bUnd 

A faith that will not ask an earthly eye 
To see the goings of the Eternal Mind, 

When clouds and darkness bear his moving 
throne on high. 



78 



OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN. 

Mrs. Eddy. 

Gigantic size, unfallen still that crest ! 
Primeval dweller where the wild winds rest ! 
Beyond the ken of mortal e'er to tell 
What power sustains thee in thy rock-bound cell. 

Or if, when erst creation vast began. 

And loud the universal fiat ran, 

— " Let there be light ! " — from chaos dark set free. 

Ye rose, a monument of Deity. 



Great as thou art, and paralleled by none. 
Admired by all, still art thou drear and lone. 
The moon looks down on thine exiled height ; 
The stars so mildly, spiritually bright. 

On wings of morning gladly flit away, 
To mix with their more genial, mighty ray ; 
The white waves gently kiss the murmuring rill ; 
But thy deep silence is unbroken still. 



79 



ELIZABETH KNEEL AND McFARLAND. 

Dr. Andrew McFarland. 

I had a mother, peaceful be her rest, 
Of all her kind the loveliest, purest, best. 
How my full heart with rapt emotion swells, 
As her dear form in memory's picture dwells, 
While to her skies my thoughts transported seem, 
And the verse kindles with so blest a theme. 

Hers was the gift sublime all power to move. 
With the persuasion of a tender love — 
With gentle arts alone to inspire a fear — 
Chide with a sigh, and chasten with a tear; 
For no reproof in lasting power could vie 
With the remonstrance of her gentle eye, 
And erring ones the wayward path forsook, 
Awed to repentance by her saddened look. 

The way she trod seemed strewn with heavenly 

light. 
Her chiming step made duty's pathway bright, 
Lighted the goal she pointed us to win — 
Blinded the soul to avenues of sin — 
Till such a lustre gilt the upward way 
No eye could miss — no footstep go astray. 
While of her work, each moment had its sum 
Of present good, or seed of good to come. 

80 



There was an hour more sacred than the rest — 
When Sabbath's sun was sinking in the west — 
When holy quiet reigned, her younger three, 
With wonted rule, were gathered at her knee. 
Then each in turn, the allotted lesson said, 
And verse by verse the Scripture task was read, 
Mingled with comment apt and gems of lore. 
Culled as we passed from her exhaustless store. 

When all was ended, from her hallowed chair 
Rose low the accents of her prayer. 
Impassioned faith and love inspired her tongue. 
Like Israel to the given pledge she clung ; 
Implored for each of the encircling band 
The needed succor of the Father's hand, 
For each some wished-for grace she fervent craved 
That each from tempter's wiles might e'er be saved, 
That all, how wide their earthly lot be cast. 
Might meet around the eternal throne at last. 

As the lawgiver's face mth glory shone 
Fresh from the presence of the Holy One, 
So when she turned to us, her features glowed 
As one who, face to face, had seen her God ! 
And while her heart with love maternal burned — 
And while her lips with blest communion warmed — 
Each child in turn was folded to her breast. 
And on each cheek a loving kiss was pressed. 



81 



That holy kiss, so warmW given, 
Was owned and registered in Heaven, 
Mid chance and change I feel it stand 
Fixed by the Eternal Giver's hand ; 
And know its sense will long outwear, 
Pleasure's soft glow and sorrow's falling tear. 

Since then of earth I 've had ray ample fill — 
Much of its good, and something of its ill ; 
All that whate'er its varying fortunes bring — 
Friendship's warm breath and wrong's envenomed 

sting. 
Yet still the memory of that kiss remains, 
Tempering all joys and solacing all pains, 
And when life's checkered pilgrimage is o'er. 
When on my vision dawns the expected shore, 
All sorrows past — all pains endured — 
Earth's woes behind, and bliss assured — 
All doubts removed — all sins forgiven, 
I '11 whisper at the gate of Heaven, 
" My patent of admission here 
Was purchased with a mother's i)rayer." 



OCTOBER'S CLOUD AND SUNSHINE. 

Rev. D. a Roberts, D.D. 

Sweet shadowing autumn clouds veil all the sky, 
And rustle with the echo of the leaves ; 

Belated summer winds, with shuddering sigh, 
Linger among the russet forest sheaves. 

O golden harvest of beauty ! where the trees 
In many-hued and matchless glory stand, 

The pond's bright bosom, rippled by the breeze, 
Mocking the shimmering leaf -fall of the land. 

Dun wandering autumn clouds, with cowls of gray. 
Go pilgriming the cold blue deeps along, 

While harmonies in tuneless numbers play 
Where vested forests chant their choric song. 

The utterance of the sunshine to the heart. 
The soulful antiphone of voiceless praise ! 

Each answers each, responding in its part. 
While each for each, for very love, delays. 

Sweet perfection of glory ! golden crown ! 

Meet for the triumph of the olding year. 
The radiance of heaven glowing down. 

The sunset beauty of autumn far and near. 

Concord, October 21, 1881. 
83 



HEIRESS THOU OF ALL THE AGES. 
J. E. Rankin, D. D., LL. D. 

Heiress thou of all the ages, 

My proud queen, dear native land, 
Write these last of hist'ry's pages. 

With a firm and faithful hand. 
Walking here, on earth's high places, 

'Neath thy banner fair unfurled. 
Welcoming earth's scattered races : — 

Lead for man and God the world ! 

Heiress thou of all the ages. 

Continental thy domain ; 
Here no noise of battle rages. 

Peace maintains her smiling reign. 
Loud the music of the hammer ; 

'Mid the gold, the reaper whirrs : 
Hark, the city's thund'rous clamor. 

Where the tide of being stirs. 

May thy sun still shine in splendor. 
Upward, with an unblenched eye. 

Thy proud bird himself surrender ; 
Let thine eagle mount the sky. 

84 



From the old-world pathways bursting, 
Striking out in pathways new, 

Still for God's approval thirsting. 
Do the work thou hast to do. 

Heiress thou of all the ages ; 

Of the wisdom handed down 
By earth's heroes and her sages ; 

No man take from thee thy crown ! 
Heiress thou of all the ages, 

Fruitage ripest of all time, 
Write these last of hist'ry's pages 

With a faith in God sublime ! 



85 



LOVE'S SEASONS. 
Miss Emma E. Broion. 

O new found earth ! O wondrous birth ! 

The very grass and clover 
Have caught the sense of sweet suspense, 

The mystery brooding over 
All life that lies beneath the skies 

When eyehds first uncover, 
For old things pass, the world is new 
When Love is young and hearts are true. 

But hark — but hush ! A wakening thrush 

Sets all the air aquiver, 
And look ! the brook has left its nook 

To join the rushing river, 
While buds unclose the perfect rose 

To lose in gift the giver. 
O glad green earth ! O heavens blue ! 
When Love is grown and hearts are true. 

And now ? What now but Aveighted bough ? 

Gold, rubies, without measure. 
And scarlet leaf and yellow sheaf 

Heap up the royal treasure 



While purpling vine full-veined with wine 

Thrills with intenser pleasure. 
Ay ! earth robs heaven of every hue 
When Love is ripe and hearts beat true. 

Yet stay ! Although the falling snow 
The warm, bright earth is hiding, 

Though dull and gray the shortening day 
Comes like a sudden eluding, 

Full well we know the hearth fire's glow 
In dearest eyes abiding. 

For last is best the whole world through 

When Love is tried and hearts keep true. 



87 



SUNSET. 
Mi^s. Lucy J. Hutchens Frost. 

O the glory of the sunset ! 

When the west is all aflame ; 
And the radiance on the hilltops 

Seems to write Jehovah's name. 
When the clouds of gold and purple 

Appear to mortal eyes 
Like a gleam of the effulgence 

That illumines Paradise. 

Then our longing spirits linger 

At the glowing western bars 
Until evening drops her curtain, 

And lights her brilliant stars. 
Then the turmoil of our spirits 

Is calmed to peaceful rest, 
By the majestic radiance 

That glorifies the west. 

And we seem to see a vision 

Of our home that is to be ; 
Within the nightless city. 

Beside the crystal sea. 
While we think we hear the echo 

Of the angel's song of love. 
Trembling through the distant vistas, 

From the great white throne above. 

88 



THE ORGAN FAIR. 

3Irs. A. G. Woolson. 

Last night by idleness beset, I wandered out to see 
What sort of entertainment now a Fair might have 

for me ; 
The object was the very best, and I was really sure 
I ought to help the grand Old North an organ to 
procure. 
Sure never to my eyes was sent 
A scene of such bewilderment; 
A bower of twining evergreen 
With three imprisoned sprites was seen ; 
A fete-tree hung its treasures low, 
And smiling archers twanged the bow ; 
And there as far as I could tell 
A most successful Jewess stood her ground beside 
a well. 
Next, standing in a corner was a wide, prodigious 

shoe, 
And a little lady in it who had nothing else to do, 
But sell to all who asked her as they filed along in 

line. 
The photographic semblance of our revered divine ; 
And just as I was sidling by, she put so sweet a 

pout on. 
What could a decent heathen do but buy a Dr. 
B— ton? 

89 



THE KING'S DEVICE. 

Miss Emma E, Brown. 

Long years ago, a certain king 

Said to his serfs one day, 
" A boulder from the quarries bring 

And by the roadside lay 
Just where the people come and go, 

And I vnW watch and see 
What each man does — so shall I know 

My land more thoroughly." 

So, well disguised, he stood next day 

Close by the thoroughfare, 
But of the throng who passed that way 

Not one appeared to care 
Whether the road was clear or no, 

As long as he could make 
A pathway round the rock and so 

No further trouble take. 

Until at last there came a man, — 

In humble peasant frock, — 
Who stopped and looked, and then began 

To try to raise the rock. 
" For 'tis a dangerous thing, and might 

Be moved away," he said, 
"But if 'tis left here over night 

Some dire mishap I dread." 

90 



And so he worked with might and main, 

Undaunted though alone, 
Until with many a tug and strain 

He rolled away the stone, 
And lo ! beneath the heavy weight 

Bright golden ducats gleamed ; 
But guessing not his happy fate. 

He stood as one who dreamed 

Until the king himself drew near 

And threw off all disguise : 
" Well done, brave heart ! " he cried, " since here 

I've seen with my own eyes 
That only thou of all the throng 

Who tread this thoroughfare 
Had thought for others, purpose strong, 

And zeal enough to care 

Whether a dangerous stumbling block 

Could be removed or no ; 
Good brother ! all beneath the rock 

Is thine. And since I know 
Thy arduous work was done today 

Without a thought of gain. 
Henceforth within my palace stay — 
A man like thee I need alway 

As my lord chamberlain. 



91 



UNREST. 

Mrs. Lucy J. Hutchens Frost. 

weary heart, wilt thou not hush thy moaning ? 
When wilt thou cease to bear unlanguaged pain ? 

1 long for this dark night to change to morning, — 
I sigh to see the star of hoj^e again. 

I've vainly sought to crush each bitter feeling. 
And happy seem, as in the olden time — 
My heart detests this treach'rous dealing, 

And seeks a shrine round which its love may 
twine. 

O sad, crushed heart ! thine unavailing sighing 

Will not return thy youthful joy to thee ; 
Sad spirit, thou art ever vainly crying 

Unto the past — " Give back my hopes to me." 
Those hopes ! they gilded every hour with sunshine, 

Changed darkest night into resplendent day ; 
But youth's bright garlands all have drooped and 
withered, 

And hope's false anthem long since died away. 

92 



O breaking heart ! wait but a little longer, 

Then thou shalt sigh and weep no more in vain ; 
In Heaven affection's flowers bloom fairer, stronger, 

And sorrow's breath can blight them ne'er again. 
Look up and smile, O thou world-weary spirit! 

Think of the bliss that waits for thee above ; 
Cling closely to the guiding Hand Almighty ; 

Soon thou shalt reach the land of deathless love. 



THE LIFE-BOAT. 
G. Kent^ Esq. 

When through the torn garb the wild tempest was 
streaming 

O'er the wave of '' bhie ruin " red lightning was 
gleaming — 

Scarce hope lent a ray the poor drunkard to cher- 
ish — 

Humanity's cry was : "Oh help, lest he perish ! " 

First, Temp'rance extended his hand for protec- 
tion — 

But gently — as if to be done on reflection — 

Not to " pluck as a brand from the burning " — but 
taken 

With care — lest the system unduly be shaken. 

Bold Abstinence next, with a zeal more engaging, 
His war with the elements manfully waging. 
Was seen to reach forth, 'mid the waves' wild com- 
motion, 
A plank, that seem'd firmly to ride the old ocean. 

94 



But not till the Life-Boat, Tee-Total^ appearing, 
And her course through the breakers triumphantly 

steering, 
Came full to the rescue, was safety ensured, 
" Drowning honor pluck'd up," and the lost one se- 
cured. 

Then hail to the Life-Boat ! Salvation extending — 

The poor making rich, and the friendless befriend- 
ing ; 

And success to the element — thus far that brought 
her 

On her voyage of benevolence — real cold water ! 



95 



DEATH OF WEBSTER. 

' ' The great heart of the nation throbs heavily at the 
portals of his grave." — Franklin Pierce. 

B. Thotnpson. 
Editor of the Southern Literary Messenger, Richmond, Va. 

The boom of sad artillery is heard 

Through mightiest commonwealths, from shore 

to shore. 
Webster now sleeps, " life's fitful fever " o'er. 
The man of intellect, whose single word 
The depths of human sentiment has stin-ed, — 
These refluent ties shall own his sway no more — 
The eloquent of speech, who dared to soar 
With tireless wing of Appalachian bird, 
Right upward to serene, unclouded skies ; 
Let thunder then from funeral guns resound, 
And banners droop in sorrow to the ground. 

And let our future poets learn to sing 

How in tlie Senate house he stood erect. 

And battled always for his country's cause, — 
Her shrines, her Constitution, and her Laws, — 

And how, when Treason rose from Faction's sect. 
He turned Columbia's aegis on the crime 

And froze it into silence for all time. 



96 



THE CATTLE SHOW. 
J. B. Moore, Esq. 

The farmer ploughs his mellow fields, 
He sows the choicest grains, 

And lo ! how rich the harvest yields, 
How wide a plenty reigns ! 

October's ripen'd splendors shine, 
The Harvest's fruits appear, 

The flocks and herds their fatness yield 
To crown the closing year. 

But not sic draughts as turn the brain, 

And stupid mak' the min' ; 
O no! we'll leave sic faults as these 

To auld lang syne. 



Then pledge we all the farmer's weal, 
Success to loom and plough ! 

And coming years shall keep alive 
The joys that bless us now. 

Sure none can with the farmer vie, 
Push round the generous wine, 

We '11 tak' a cup of cider yet. 
For auld lang syne. 



FORTY YEARS. 

The Pastorate of Rev. N. Bouton, D.D. 
Miss Edna Dean Proctor. 

With their labors, hopes and fears, 
With theu' raptures and theu- tears. 
Gone into the silent spheres — 

Forty years ! 

Laud the Pastor's work today, 
Who to such as went astray, 
Pointed out the better way 

Forty years ! 

Watching at the bed of pain — 
Praying he may not in vain. 
Tell men of a Savior slain — 

Forty years ! 

Fellowship with kindred souls. 
Welcome into many folds, 
Warning from perdition's shoals 

Forty years ! 

List the echo fi-om the street, 
Trod by his most willing feet. 
In his walks of mercy meet. 

Forty years — 

98 



From the pulpit and the pew, 
From the aged, honored few, 
Who his true and just life knew — 

Forty years! 

From the still and solemn mould 
Of the youthful and the old, 
Whom our arms did once enfold — 

Forty years ! 

O'er the dear and blessed past 
One fond glance of memory cast, 
Say one farewell to the last 

Forty years ! 

LOf <;; 



99 



THE MARTYR LAMB. 

Miss H. Liver more. 

In a tomb of solid rock 

Joseph laid tlie Lord. 
Holy women came to look, 

Nor feared the Roman sword, 
But O ! His glorious rising morn — 

Dawn of Immortality ! 
From the grave a Saviour born — 

Shout ! Victory ! 

Heavenly guards in Shiloh's tomb 

Glorified the name 
Of Jesus and forbade to mourn 

The lovers of the Lamb. 
Quickly go — disciples tell 

The Master's risen — as he said, 
The watchword vibrates, all is well 

With Christ their Lord ! 

O ! how sweet could woman sing, 

For she ne'er denied 
The lowly, suffering Nazarene, 

Nor his life betrayed ! 

100 



See her in the garden stand, 
Lovely mid her flowing tears, 

A lily fair in Judah's land, 
To her the Lord appears. 

Mary ! to my brethren go, 

And say that I ascend ; 
I'll intercede for men below 

At God's right hand. 
On a cloud to heaven he rode. 

Leading captive death and hell— 
The Counselor, the Mighty God, 

Immanuel ! 

Believers know that God is love, 

By Christ revealed ; 
They read it in the word forgive 

And pardon sealed. 
By the merits of his death — 

By his resurrection power — 
By the holy sovereign breath, 

" Sin no more." 

This is written in my breast 

By Jesus' hand — 
Sin no more, but in me rest, 

'Tis my command ; 
Wear my yoke and bear my cross, 

Follow me and thou shalt find 
Heavenly pearls for nature's dross. 

And gold refined. 
101 



Lovers of the Martyr Lamb, 

I close uiy song 
With Alleluia to his name 

Upon my tongue — 
Jesus is the name I own, 

The first — the last — the True Amen, 
Jesus, king on David's throne 

Quickly come to reign ! 



102 



FOREVER AND FOREVER! 
Harry B. Metcalf. 

Our little loves may pass away, 
As fragile heartstrings sever ; 

But each dawn brings a sweeter day, 
For love is love forever. 

The little gods of time-worn creeds, 
Die, neath the world's endeavor , 

But lives the grandeur of good deeds. 
For God is God forever ! 



103 



THE VISION. 

Dr. Andrew M^Farkmd. 
" I will see thee at Phillipi." — Julius Caesar. 

Night poured on Rome its moonUght floo< 
Her hundred domes in glory stood, 

In lustrous veil arrayed ; 
But where the Forum, gloomier, rose. 
Whose crumbling wrecks around disclose 
Her long and cheerless night of woes 

A pall of darkness laid. 

The Colosseum caught the swell, 
And cope and buttress, as it fell, 

Ran o'er with molten gold ; 
It crested with its silvery line. 
The lonely arch of Constantine — 
The splendors of the Palatine 
Its gleaming bosses told. 

From the drear Campagna late. 
Through Lorenzo's vaulted gate 

Hurryingh' I sped, — 
All save the roused sentinel, 
Whose startled accents sharply fell, 
Or distant Capitoline bell 

Hushed as the Appian's dead. 
104 



Silent — vast — in ruin laid, 
Half illumined — half in shade, 

And step, and voice, and bell ; 
Only, with intrusive sotihd, 
Broke the solitude profound, 
Where closing centuries had wound 

Their unchanging spell. 

From the Forum's southern line 
Heaves the ruined Palatine, — 

The headsman's lone domain ; 
Where stood imperial Caesar's halls, 

Where Nero reared his golden walls. 
The viper basks, the lizard crawls, — 

Decay and silence reign. 

The hour, the scene, possessed me quite 
The giant shades — the hush of night, 

Peopled my breast with fears ; 
What foot profane would dare to tread 
Where flit the shades of Roman dead. 
Where Time's remorseless hand has spread 

Spoils of a thousand years ! 

Crumbling arch and column strewed 
The path, unconscious, I pursued, 

'Mid the mouldering walls ; 
Then entering by a shattered gate 
To a courtyard desolate — 
Marius-like I'll meditate 

In these deserted halls. 
105 



Where the gray owl, boding sits, 
And the night-bird restless flits 

Like some guilty sprite, — 
Here in sadness I will muse. 
Where the deadly nightshade strews 
Poison in the clammy dews 

That bathe the brow of night. 

I thought on years forever fled — 
Of waning life, by phantoms led — 

The hours that once were mine ; 
How brief a point they seemed when cast 
On this broad record of the past, 
Where centuries, in flitting past, 

Write but a single line. 

" Hence, loiterer 'mid the shadowy past ; 
In vain thou bid'st the iconoclast 
His destined task refrain ; 
I gave thee life's ill-honored boon — 
Here I meet thee at its noon — 
Thy Philippi shall be soon, 

There we meet again ! " 

It ceased. The wonted sounds of night 
Chased the dread vision from my sight, 

Resolved, unseen, away ; 
Gregario's convent-bell was ringing, 
A midnight stave the monks were singing, 
The moon her beams was softly flinging 

Upon the ruins gray. 
106 



Months since have passed and seas gone o'er, 
I tread again my native shore, 

Yet through my troubled brain 
Oft steals the phantom voice which saith, 
" I know the numbering of thy breath, 
Soon at the dread Philippi, death, 

We shall meet again ! " 



107 



TO A BRIDE. 

Mrs. R. 3L A. Enos. 
Sweet friend, today the bridal wreath is twining 

In snowy bloom around thy fair young brow ; 
The words that bind thy spirit to another 

In holy love and trust are spoken now. 
Before the altar side by side ye stand, 
Henceforth to walk together hand in hand. 

Before thee, strown with blossoms, bright with sun- 
light, 

A happy future smiling stands arrayed ; 
Thou dreamest not, while gazing down the vista. 

The blooms may wither and the sunshine fade ; 
Thy future seems one dream of perfect love, 
Pure as the being of the saints above. 

God's peace be with thee, woman's holy mission. 
Her brightest crown of joy, is given to thee ; 

Could all the prayers I breathe tonight be granted, 
How bright and beautiful thy way would be. 

Yet, gentle one, where'er thy steps may range, 

A love so pure as thine can know no change. 

Then onward, in the shade as in the sunlight, 
Still guided by our Father's loving hand. 

Till, free from all earthly care and soitow. 
Before His throne rejoicingly ye stand ; 

Where songs of seraph music sweetly thrill ; 

In Heaven, among the angels, wedded still. 
108 



J. H. Kimball 

The spirit of our fathers 

Is in our bosoms yet, 
Our hearts are as unshrinking, 

And our nerves as firmly set. 
We will speak as we have spoken. 

With our words unmeeted still, 
With the Intellect forever 

Free from the despot's will ! 



By John Farmer. 

In life through every varied stage. 

In every rank and station, 
In youth, in manhood and in age, 

While all is in mutation ; 
He who with steadiness of mind, 

And passions ne'er uneven. 
Is ever to his lot resigned. 

On earth enjoys a heaven. 



109 



A BUTTON? 
Rev. D. C. Roberts. 

A button ? Yes, a button ; 
And the man the door was shut on, 
With his rag of dingy blue. 
That was once a coat of blue, 
Though a hungry tramp, and cold, 
Was a soldier, true and bold, — 
Let him in ! 

And it is n't always bread. 

Or a place to lay your head, 

That you 'specially desire ; 

But a place beside the fire 

And a feeling that you're "in it" 

When the Comrades meet to " chin it,' 

And a welcome warm and true 

From the boys that wore the blue. 

But we want a chance at giving. 
For the gladdest thing in living 
Is the joy that comes of sharing 
A place we can have by taking it, 
A home we can have by making it. 
Here 's our home and we have won it. 

110 



Where the " Tramp's " flag is unfurled, 

Stands the cream of all the world. 

Raise the flag above our roof-tree, let it wave and 

wave ! 
'Tis the banner and the beacon of the true and 

brave ! 
'Tis the meteor of glory over field and sea ! 
'Tis the sacred pledge and symbol of the land 

that 's free ! 



HI 



"WHAT'S IN A NAME?" 

G. Kent. 

An aged pair, in Scotland, 

Were reading the Good Book — 

Or, rather, 't was the husband, 
Who on its page did look. 

He came to the one passage 

Wherein occurs the phrase, 
Of olden time, that " on the earth, 

Were giants in those days." 

His eyesight being dim, 

And learning not profound, 
He missed the dot., and turn'd the ?', 

In giants, somewhat round. 

He read it with an r, 

And made of grants the word : 
Whereat the good wife (such their name) 

With pride was somewhat stirr'd. 

" Was there Grants then ? " she eager ask'd 

" Oh, yes," was the reply, 
"We're an auld race., and with the world 

Began, and with it die." 

112 



The change of Grants to giants, 
Our times have rendered back ; 

But the true meaning of the term 
The people do not lack. 

Slight was the old man's error 

In reading, after all, 
Identical as are the words 

Since shown, in Vicksburg's fall. 

U. S. Consulate, Valencia, 1864. 



113 



TEKEL. 

Mrs. Ann D. H. Bailey. 

Cried the King, " Bring wise men hither ! 
Let them now the words decipher 

Traced upon the wall ! " 
While the stricken guests are rousing 
From the bacchanal carousing, 
From the cups of their profaning, 

At the earnest call. 

Now the heathen priesthood falter 
And in vain the idol-altar, 

With its gods of gold ; 
Vain the lore of distant ages. 
Vain the wisdom of the sages, 
None may read the dark presages 

Heaven hath foretold. 

'Till the man by God appointed 
For this holy work annointed. 

Fearless and alone, 
Stood before the King unshrinking, 
God's most righteous will revealing, 
In the writing's fearful meaning. 

Vengeance on the throne. 
114 



Even so God's hand is writing 
Characters of fire inditing, 

On this nation's heart ; 
And its bravest spirits cower 
'Neath the horrors of the hour, 
Seeking the prophetic power, 

Wisdom to impart. 

And a people's voice united. 
Pleading for a race benighted, 

Greets the ruler's ear ; 
" Lo ! in thy dominions wait 
Those who wondrous things relate 
Of the God they humbly serve ; 

Send and bring them here." 

'Tis done, and Sumner's voice is pealing 
Heaven's eternal law revealing, 

Freedom's right divine ; 
In the desecrated chamber, 
Sacred to a nation's honor, 
Reads aloud the mystic cypher 

Of its fearful crime. 

" Ye are weighed and still are wanting 
And the glory is departing 

From your blood-bought land ; 
Ye have praised the gods of cotton, 
Gods of gold, and gain ill-gotten. 
Grown with hellish lust besotten, 

And ye cannot stand. 
115 



"And your noblest blood and purest, 
Must be offered in the contest 

With a foe maUgn, , 
Till the Nation's heart confesseth 
God doth rule, and man possesseth 
Only what His wisdom blesseth 

With a seal divine." 



116 



CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
Mrs. A. D. H. Bailey. 

Hail thou ! Merry Christmas morning ! 

Day whose advent angels sing — 
Peace on earth ! today is dawning, 

All the heavenly arches ring. 

Mortals ! catch the strain of glory, 
Echo back the song of love ; 

Earth and sky resound the story, 
Peace on Earth and Heaven above. 



117 



BURNING OF THE NORTH CHURCH. 

(Sabbath Morning, June 29, 1874.) 

We come not, Lord, in this sad hour, 

To ask Thee why or whence 
This day of grief — we would not doubt 

Thy watchful Providence. 

Thy messages, like gentle dew, 

In former blessings came. 
And shall we question when they come 

In characters of flame? 

Through loss and pain, through gloom and fear, 

Still let us see Thy love, 
As, through the clouds and crimson blaze, 

The stars shone clear above. 

We know that, though the house we loved, 

Thy temple made with hands, 
In ashes lies. Thy Church, oh God, 

On sure foundations stands. 

We pray Thee that with faith and zeal 

Our souls may all be filled ; 
Like Israel may we bring our gifts 

Thy temple to rebuild. 

118 



And may our hearts, baptized with flame, 

As gold refined and tried. 
In sorrow's fiery crucible 

Be cleansed and purified. 

And though a " Miserere " breaks 

From all our lips today, 
Yet " Gloria Deo " make us sing, 

Oh Lord, we humbly pray. 



119 



OLD NAMES. 

G. Kent, Esq. 

The public, of old, had the Town House and 

Pound — 
But no watchmen were needed to beat their long 

round. 
Of Churches, the North stood alone in its glory, 
While of taverns, a little could tell the whole story. 

New names of old things have most sadly bereft us 
The " 'leven lots " have come to be nearly built over, 
And even the " Frog Pond " almost tum'd to clover ; 
At least the frogs croak, and most meagerly sputter 

all. 
Not like days of " Old Roach," in bull-notes so gut- 
tural 
The " Dark Plains " are stripp'd of their timber and 

wood. 
And " Sheep Davis " grows rye where the great 

trees stood. 
The " Great Swamp " is swamp'd to mere nothing 

at all— 
" Rattlesnake," and " Rum Hill," do but totter to 

fall; 
And " Turkey Pond," too, since we lost " Uncle 

Jo," 

120 



Comes in ancient use less, "by a jug full," than 

show; 
The " Iron Works " pass now for mere irony, 
And " Horse Shoe " and " Tury " have near ceas'd 

to be; 
The Railroads our intervales wide have invaded, 
And the iroa horse tramps where full hay carts were 

laded. 



131 



HYMN FOR CHRISTMAS. 

Nathaniel H. Carter. 

In hymns of praise, eternal God, 

When the creating hand 
Stretch'd the blue arch of heaven abroad, 

And meted sea and land 
The morning stars together sung. 
And shouts of joy from angels rung. 

Than earth's prime hour, more joyous far 

Was the eventful morn. 
When the bright beams of Bethlehem's star 

Announced a Saviour born ! 
Then sweeter strains from Heaven began, 
« Glory to God — good will to Man." 

Babe of the manger ! Can it be ! 

Art thou the Son of God ? 
Shall subject nations bow the knee, 

And kings obey thy nod ? 
Shall thrones and monarchs prostrate fall 
Before the tenant of a stall ? 

'Tis He ! the hymning seraphs cry. 
While hovering drawn to earth ; 
'Tis He ! the shepherd's songs reply, 

122 



Hail ! hail, Emmanuers birth ! 
The rod of peace those hands shall bear, 
That brow a crown of glory wear ! 

'Tis He ! the Eastern sages sing, 
And spread their golden hoard ! 

'Tis He ! the hills of Sion ring, 
Hosanna to the Lord ! 

The Prince of long prophetic years 

Today in Bethlehem appears ! 

He comes ! the conqueror's march begins, 

No blood his banner stains ; 
He comes to save the world from sins, 

And break the captive's chains ! 
The poor, the sick and bHnd ! 
The Prince of Peace and Righteousness. 

Though now in swaddhng clothes, he lies. 
All hearts his power shall own. 

When He with legions of the skies, 
The clouds of heaven his throne, 

Shall come to judge the quick and dead, 

And strike a trembling world with dread . 



123 



ANITA GARIBALDI. 

Mrs. Roxana Allen Enos. 

The soft, rich glow of an Italian sunset 

ilad flushed the sky with its own rosy hue, 
And perfumed breezes whispered in the branches 

That fenced a lowly cottage in from view ; 
Young roses bright as ever bloomed in Eden, 

Wasted their wealth of fragrance on the air, 
And twined in beauty round the open casement 

Where lay one fading form, so pale, so fair ; 
While at her side a patriot-soldier bending 

Murmured low words of mingled love and prayer. 

They dared to listen when the voice of Freedom 

Proclaimed its gospel to the nations round. 
And Italy, a passive slave no longer. 

Woke from the dream of ages at the sound ; 
They dared to break oppression's galling fetters. 

To bid their native land be free once more. 
To send the war-cry of her gathering legions. 

From vale to mountain and from shore to shore ; 
They braved the war-cloud till its stormy darkness 

Scattered then* gallant band, and all was o'er. 

124 



Then turning from the wreck of glorious visions, 

From buried hopes that all too early died ; 
Pursued, outlawed, they fled for life and freedom, 

The high-souled leader and his gentle bride ; 
Together they had reached that peaceful valley 

But Death's pale Angel sadly waited there ; 
With one last look of holy love, she folded 

Her white hands on her bosom as in prayer. 
And passed away, as fades a star at morning. 

Its pale light melting in the sunny air. 

Far down the valley Austrian swords were flashing, 

And eager soldiers sought their hunted prey ; 
Yet still he lingered where his Ufe's last treasure. 

In such calm loveliness beside him lay ; 
Then in his arms, alone, he bore her gently 

Far up the wild and distant mountain's side, 
And pausing there, amid the gathering shadows. 

Made a lone grave and laid his martyred bride — 
Then turned away, his peril'd flight pursuing 

To where the ocean rolled its sunlit tide. 



125 



"AWAKE, AWAKE!" 

Miss Harriet Liverinore. 
Awake, Awake, put on thy strength. O arm of the 
Lord, awake as in the ancient days. Isa. 51: 9. 

Thus Judah's royal prophet sang, 

Inspired by Israel's God, 
The lofty strain by faith he rang. 

And called the Eternal Word. 
Awake, awake, O Arm Divine ! 

Thy sovereign strength put on. 
As in the days, the ancient time, 

Thou Holy, Holy One ! 

Did'st Thou not dry the foaming sea. 

And make the deeps a way 
For ransomed ones from Egypt free. 

In mighty Pharaoh's day ? 
Did'st not Thy mighty power still 

The dragon's hellish roar. 
With Egypt's dead the waters fill. 

Like lead to rise no more ? 

Again awake, O Powerful Ann ! 

To holy battle come, 
And Zion's haughty foes disarm. 

Quickly, Thou Holy One ! 
Then shall the Lord's redeemed return 

To Zion with delight, 
Thy children cease to sigh and mourn. 

Will live in Jesus' sight. 
126 



REQUIEM. 

(Probably the Last Lines Written by Dr. Andrew 
McFarland.) 

Birds at the setting sun 

Glad seek the sheltering nest ; 

My lengthened flight is done, 
I 'm weary ; let me rest. 

Beyond the tempter's power, 

No more by sin distressed ; 
Fix, Thou, the opening hour 

Of my eternal rest. 

Gone now my anxious fears. 

The turmoil of the breast ; 
Adieu, thou vale of tears 

Welcome the evening rest. 

His promise stands assured 

To weary ones oppressed ; 
On Thy dear bosom, Lord, 

Give me the promised rest. 



13^ 



BURIAL AT SEA. 

N. H. Carter. 

From his room to the deck they brought hun, drest 

For his funeral rites, 

Id his funeral robes by his own request, — 

With his boots and stock and garments on, 

And naught but the breathing spirit gone ; 

For he wished that a child might come and lay 

An unstartled hand upon his clay. 

Then they wrapped his corse in a tarry sheet, 

To the dead as Araby's spices sweet, 

And prepared him to seek the depths below, 

Where waves never beat, nor tempests blow. 

No steeds with their nodding plumes were here. 

No sable hearse, and no coffined bier, 

To bear with pomp and parade away 

The dead — to sleep with his kindred clay. 

But the little group — a silent few 

His companions, mixed with the hardy crew — 

Stood thoughtful around, till a prayer was said 

O'er the corse of the deaf, unconscious dead. 

Then they bore his remains to the ship's side. 

And committed them safe to the dark, blue tide. 

One sullen plunge, and the scene is o'er, — 

The sea rolled on as it rolled before. 

128 



In that classical sea, whose azure vies 

With the green of its shores, and the blue of its 

skies, 
In some pearly cave, in some coral cell, — 
Oh, the dead shall sleep — as sweetly, as well, — 
As if shrined in the pomp of Parian tombs. 
Where the East and the South breathe their rich 

perfumes ; 
Nor forgotten shall be the humblest one. 
Though he sleep in the watery waste alone. 
When the trump of the angel sounds with dread, 
And the sea, like the earth, gives up its dead ! 



129 



HYMN. 

One Hundred and Seventy-fifth Anniversary of First 
Congregational Church, Concord, November 17, 18 and 
19, 1905. 

Rev. N. F. Carter. 

So many years, O Lord, have rolled away, 
Like sands of gold in Time's unceasing flow. 

Since first Thy little tlock met here to pray 
In days of peril we may never know. 

We come to own Thy guarding, guiding hand, 
So strong to shield and help in darkest hour, 

When savage hordes invaded oft the land. 

And foreign foes oppressed with grinding power ; 

When arms were carried to the House of God, 
So great the menace to the common weal, 

To guard against such prowling foes abroad. 
Whose stirring signal was the musket's peal ! 

We come to praise Thee for Thy shepherd care. 
For leaders who so long Thy people fed, 

For saintly worship, saintly song and prayer. 
And saintly souls to sterling virtues wed. 
130 



For all the churches going from this fold, 
The growing branches of this fruitful vine, 

We thank Thee, Lord, and pray Thee ever hold 
Them fast and make them truly, wholly Thine. 

The blessings of Thy grace we gladly own. 
The many mercies crowning all the way. 

The harvests for the Heavenly garner grown, 
The hope and promise of this festal day. 

Here long may faithful pastors feed Thy flock, 
Here ever may this people be Thy care, 

Compel the world to own their godly walk 
Till crowns of glory every one shall wear ! 



131 



175tb ANNIVERSARY HYMN. 

First Congregational Church, Concord. 
Rev. G, H. Reed. 

O, Thou who did'st our fathers guide, 
Blest Author of their faith and ours, 

May we, like them, in Thee confide, 
And to Thy church devote our powers. 

In answer to their prayers we pray. 
And this shall our petition be, 

That we as loyal prove as they, 
Unto our country and to Thee. 

Their hopes fulfilled, their toils repaid, 
If with the right their children side ; 

On firm foundations they have laid, 

Long may the church they loved abide. 

Thine ancient mercies. Lord, bestow 
On us who now before Thee wait. 

May we Thy sure protection know, 
Exalt Thy name in church and state. 

132 



And for the one transcendent gift, 
Above all other gifts adored, 

Our grateful songs to Thee we lift 
For Jesus Christ, Thy Son, our Lord. 

And when shall end our pilgrim-days, 
And nobler tasks our powers employ, 

Lord, Thine alone be all the praise. 
And ours the everlasting joy. 



133 



FAIR FREEDOM'S LAND. 
Rev. J. E. Rankin^ LL. D. 
O land of all earth's lands the best, 
Fair Freedom's empire in the West, 
From rising to the setting sun 
All nations here unite in one — 

Om' fathers came as exiles here. 
They saw our day with vision clear. 
Dispersed at home the corner stones 
Which God, the nation's builder, owns. 

Shall we, the sons of Pilgrim sires, 
Neglect to kindle fresh the fires 
They hghted on Atlantic's coast 
Which makes our land of lands the boast? 

Ah, no ! By faith Christ's standard goes 
Beyond Sierra's distant snows. 
To where Pacific's waters he 
Beneath the golden sunset sky. 

By faith this goodly land I see 
In Christ's own freedom doubly free ; 
From North to South, from East to West, 
Beneath his gentle scepter blest. 

Chorus — 
Fak Freedom's land, fair Freedom's land ! 
Begirt with might, long may she stand ! 
And may her realm Christ's kingdom be 
From lake to gulf, from sea to sea. 
134 



THE BROKEN ALABASTER BOX 
Rev. J. E. Rankin^ LL. D. 

She stole behind, no word she spoke ; 

With tears and kisses sweet, 
The alabaster box she broke. 

Anointing there His feet. 

The Lord did not disdain her touch, 

Or draw His feet aside ; 
He knew, oh, why she loves so much ; 

"What her hot tears implied. 

He marked her well, measured her love. 
And spoke her soul forgiven ; 

Perhaps He prized her praise above 
The angels' praise in Heaven. 

To Simon He : Thou seest this deed ! 

Where'er the truth shall go. 
On wings of light, it too shall speed. 

Till all the world shall know. 

Howard Uxtversity, May, 1892. 



135 



THAT SWEET OLD SONG. 
Rev. Frank L. Phalen. 

Far back in the dawn of ages 

When the world and its people were young, 
One night o'er the plains of Judea, 

A wonderful anthem was sung. 

It was sung by the angels of glory, 

To shepherds who watched through the night 
Their flocks as they patiently waited 

The advent of morning's glad light. 

Blazing out through the shadows of midnight 
There burst forth a vision so bright, 

That amid the strange splendor and singing 
The shepherds stood trembling with fright. 

Lowly listening they heard the good tidings 
Of glory, and peace, and good will. 

And the birth of the Babe in the manger, 
The world's dearest hopes to fulfil. 

***** 

136 



Nevermore shall the angels and vision 

On the plains of Judea appear, 
But the message and music of Christmas 

Sounds on through the earth far and near. 

Sing on holy anthem of Heaven ! 

Sing on through the shadows and light ! 
Sing on in the world's heart forever ! 

O, sing us the old song tonight ! 

Christmas Eve. 



137 



Sarah F. Ballard. 

Free as the bird in its airy flight, 

Roam in your thoughts to the realms of light ; 

Leave every care and vexation behind, 

Let fancy paint things quite to your mind — 

On your return to the world of sense, 

New courage and strength you '11 bring from thence. 



Sarah F. Ballard. 

Pure the heart where Christ abides — 
Under his wing no evil hides ; 
Radiant gleams of Truth are given, 
Infinite peace, the joy of heaven. 
Thine is the blessing, if such your choice — 
You have only to hear and obey His voice. 



138 



ON THE WING. 

Harry B. Metcalf. 

Good night ; the shades are falling ; 

The sun slips from the west : 
The kindly stars are calUng 

The weary world to rest. 

Good night ; and may thy slumbers 
Sweet and refreshing be, 

In His blest care who numbers 
The mist-drops of the sea. 

Good night ; and be thy waking 

Unto a day made fair 
To some heart that is aching, 

By token of Thy care. 



139 



COLUMBIA'S EMBLEM. 

Miss Edna Dean Proctor. 

Blazon Columbia's emblem 

The bounteous, golden Corn ! 
Eons ago, of the great sun's glow 

And the joy of the earth, 't was born. 
From Superior's shore to Chih, 

From the ocean of dawn to the west. 
With its banners of green and silken sheen 

It sprang at the sun's behest ; 
And by dew and shower, from its natal hour, 

With honey and wine 't was fed, 
Till on slope and plain the gods were fain 

To share the feast outspread : 
For the rarest boon to the land they loved 

Was the Corn so rich and fair. 
Nor star nor breeze o'er the farthest seas 

Could find its like elsewhere. 

In their holiest temples the Incas 

Offered the heaven-sent Maize — 
Grains wrought of gold, in a silver fold, 

For the sun's enraptured gaze ; 
And its harvest came to the wandering tribes 

As the god's own gift and seal. 
And Montezuma's festal bread 

Was made of its sacred meal. 

140 



Narrow their cherished fields ; but ours 

Are broad as the continent's breast, 
And, lavish as leaves, the rustling sheaves 

Bring plenty and joy and rest : 
For they strew the plains and crowd the wains 

When the reapers meet at morn, 
Till blithe cheers ring and west winds sing 

A song for the garnered Corn. 

The rose may bloom for England, 

The lily for France unfold ; 
Ireland may honor the shamrock, 

Scotland her thistle bold ; 
But the shield of the great Republic, 

The glory of the West, 
Shall bear a stalk of the tasseled Corn — 

The sun's supreme bequest ! 
The arbutus and the golden rod 

The heart of the North may cheer. 
And the mountain laurel for Maryland 

Its royal clusters rear, 
And jasmine and magnolia 

The crest of the South adorn ; 
But the wide Republic's emblem 

Is the bounteous, golden Corn ! 



141 



O ! sad to be last of a line and name, 
Lived through a century's round without stain ! 
Long will the intervale the last name bear, 
Longer, we trust, our Town Records stand fair. 
Years on, tall carved granite the mem'ry keep 
Till time ends, in God's Acre th' dust will sleep. 



143 



PRAISE. 

Miss Sarah F. Sanborn. 

Blessings cluster 'round his head, 
Down forever be his bed, — 
This my friend, who praises me. 

Red the lips that he shall kiss. 
Their first fruits he shall not miss,- 
This my friend, who praises me. 

In his life, lo ! the ideal 

Shall become no less than real, — 

This my friend, who praises me. 

Honey-sweet his words to me. 
Honey-sweet his joy shall be, — 
This my friend, who praises me. 

Roses in his garden bloom. 
Laurel where shall be his tomb, — 
This my friend, who praises me. 



143 



NOTES. 



The Placing of the Bradley Monument, Septem:- 
BER 36, 1837. 
There was a procession of the pupils of the Concord 
Literary Institute and other schools, and citizens from 
the Weeks House (where Miss Mary Clark and Dr. John 
Farmer died) to the south side of the site of the stone. 
Prayer was offered by the Rev. Dr. Bouton. 
Hymn by Rev. John Pierpont. 
Ode by George Kent, Esq. 
Address by Asa McFarland. 

Reading of Miss Clark's Ballad by Principal D. P. 
Stone. 

(The Ballad, of some forty stanzas, is given in Dr. 
Bouton's History of Concord.) 

Reading of the petition for aid and the deed of con- 
veyance of the site to the New Hampshire Historical 
Society, by Richard Bradley, Esq. 
Prayer by Rev. E. G. Cummings. 
Miss Clark's Ballad: 

** Five gallant yeomen fell, 
Peters, Lufkins, Bradleys, Bean. 
The Bradleys were distinguished men. 
Each left a mourning family. 
Samuel, an only son, 
Father of him whose piety 
Hath reared this stone." 
Richard Bradley, Esq., died June 6, 1869. 
145 



In Mr. Kent's Ode I liave taken the liberty to change 
"Mild Kankamagus" to ''Wild Kankamagus," the 
character of the Indian having become better known. 

Rev. E. E. Adams, born August 29, 1810; died No- 
vember 3, 1871, in Oxford, Pa. 

P. Carrigan, born February 20, 1772; died March 15, 
1842. 

Nathaniel Haseltine Carter was born at Concord, at 
the Iron Works District, so called. He graduated at 
Dartmouth in 1811 ; taught in several places. In 1815 
was appointed professor of language in Dartmouth Uni- 
versity. In 1825 he was connected with a paper in 
Albany, N. Y. , in the interest of DeWitt Clinton, which 
removed to New York City and became the New York 
Statesman. Going to Europe in 1825, he traveled for 
nearly two years, and returning, published in two large 
volumes, " Letters from Europe." 

A man of noblest character, his talents gave him rank 
in the literary society in the city by whom he was great- 
ly beloved. On Ms last visit to liis native place he wrote 
the lines, "To My Native Stream," given in Dr. Bou- 
ton's History. 

Fully conscious of the state of his health, he set sail 
for Marseilles, then the favorite health resort, but failed 
rapidly on the voyage and wrote " The Burial at Sea," 
when too feeble to put the two scraps of paper together. 
His anticipation was not realized, for he survived until 
the vessel entered the harbor, where friends awaited 
him. 

One of Ms friends, Augustus Greele, a noted ship 
builder of New York, placed at his grave in the ceme- 
tery a beautiful marble^obelisk. 

The date of his^death^was January 2, 1830. 

146 



Roxana M. Allen Enos, born December 18, 183-1; 
died January 6, 1901, in North Vallejo, Gal. 

Jolm Farmer, born June 2, 1789; died August 3, 
1838. 

George Kent, born May 4, 1796; died Nov. 8, 1884. 

George F. Kent, born February 4, 1824 ; died Febru- 
ary 10, 1850. 

James Horace Kimball, editor of the Herald of Free- 
dom, author of " Be Faitliful," died April 14, 1833. 

Miss Harriet Livermore was born in Concord, N. H., 
April 14, 1788, the daughter of Edward St. Loe and 
Mehitable Harris [daughter of Robert Harris, merchant] 
Livermore. Her mother died before she was five years 
old. Her father, a lawyer, removed to Lowell, and at 
eight years of age she was placed in a boarding school 
at Haverliill, Mass., and later at Atkinson Academy, 
receiving the best education for girls at the time. Later, 
a beauty and a belle she floated in the gay circle of Wash- 
ington, where her father represented Massachusetts in 
the House of Representatives, as her grandfather had 
New Hampshire in the Senate. 

An engagement to a young physician had not mate- 
rialized, the parents of both parties objecting, and Dr. 
Moses Elliot died in Florida, a surgeon in the army. 

At home she taught awhile but found the work un- 
congenial. The settling of her religious creed occupied 
her for some years. Christened and confirmed in the 
Episcopal Church, she veered first towards one and then 
another denomination in turn, until immersed in a chan- 
nel cut in the ice of the river at Assonet. 

Having collected scriptural evidence of female partici- 
pation in religious services it was but a step to exhorting 

147 



and then to preaching. She was probably the first 
female to address the inmates of the New Hampsliire 
State Prison. 

She was an early Adventist. She believed that the 
American aborigines were the lost tribes of Israel, and 
through extreme difficulty she went to Fort Leaven- 
worth to devote her life to teaching and comforting the 
tribes, but the Indian commissioners forbade her en- 
trance. Kneeling in great distress she cried, "What 
shall I do? " A voice audible to the soul said, " Peace, I 
will send thee to Jerusalem. ' ' She at once began to 
secure means, and started on the journey with fifty 
dollars, but a friend of her brother's, consul at Gibral- 
tar, added some one hundred and forty dollars. On 
April 4, 1837, she entered the Jaffa gate of the Holy 
City, and was entertained a month at the Oazinoria of 
the Latin Convent as an American pilgrim. She was 
forty-nine years old on the fourteenth of April (ten days 
later), and the superior of the convent interviewed her, 
and she boldly told him through an interpreter that the 
Lord Christ was coming and would put down Rome. 
She left with much regret, but the inward voice said, 
** Go, now, daughter, I will bring thee again." 

Henceforth she wrote and sold her books and made 
other efforts for funds to return. Tliree visits, in 1832, 
1838 and 1843, the pilgrim made to Jerusalem. Though 
not permitted to preach in public she did hope to await 
there the coming of the King, but it was not to be. "I 
am in heaven wliile I write," she said, and she was 
indeed a voluminous writer. She still preached, and 
under tlu-ee administrations the presidents and high 
officials attended her services in the House of Repre- 
sentatives. 

Governor Briggs wrote of her : *' Her voice was melo- 

148 



dions, full and sweet ; though not loud was distinctly 
heard by probably a thousand people ; her language was 
correct with the dignity of a queen. No language could 
do justice to the pathos of her singing (she sang her own 
hymns), without exception the sweetest singer I've ever 
heard." 

She returned to this country in 1862, but all her fam" 
ily and prominent acquaintances had passed on. An 
annuity left her by her brother had been lost, and she 
drifted from one friend to another till in November, 
1867, she was placed in the Brockley, at Philadelpliia, 
where she died alone on a Sabbath morning while the 
inmates were at divine service, March 30, 1868, aged 
eighty-one years, lacking fifteen days. A friend, Mrs. 
Worrell, had her removed to her own house, and after 
religious services had her laid in her own lot in the Ger- 
mantown (Pa.) Cemetery, and was soon laid beside her. 
No stone tells the passing traveler where the weary pil- 
grim sleeps. 

Dr. Andrew McFarland, bom June 14, 1817; died 
November 22, 1891. 

Mary S. Nelson, writer of lines on "Death of Mrs. 
George Kent," soon after became the wife of Hon. 
Judge Ira Perley. She died April 27, 1870. 

It was only a birthplace that Concord had the honor 
of giving the distinguished preacher. Rev. Leonard 
Swain, D. D., born February 26, 1821, died July 14, 
1869, as his parents soon after his birth moved from 
town and settled at Mendon, N. Y. His mother, of ex- 
cellent memory, was a Baptist, and it was at her house 
the incipient steps looking towards the organization of 
the first Baptist church were taken. She did not object 
to his baptism, but said if that takes the place of the 

149 



Jewish rite let that be observed, and Doctor McFarland 
preached at the house from Gal. 3: 16, and baptized the 
son. Already marked as poet and orator he graduated 
from Dartmouth in 1841, taught for two years, studied 
theology at Andover, and was ordained in 1846 over the 
Congregational Church in Nashua, N. H. In 1852 he 
was called to the Central Congregational Church in 
Providence, R. I. In both places he gave the whole 
energies of his soul to his people and the advocacj'- of all 
right. 



150 



INDEX OF AUTHORS, 



Adams, Rev. Ezra E., D. D.* 
Brown, Miss Emma E.* 
Bailey, Mrs. A. D. H.* 
Bailey, Albert H.* 
Ballard, Miss Sarah F.* 
Carter, Rev. Nathan F.f 
Carter, Nathaniel H.* 
Carrigain, Pliilipt 
Carr, Mrs. Laura Garlandt 
Chesley, Dr. A. P.f 
Clark, Miss Mary 7 
Coit, Rev. Henry A., D. D.t 
Enos, Mrs. R. M. A.* 
Eddy, Rev. Mary B.t 
Farmer, John t 
Frost, Mrs. Lucy J. H.* 
Kent, George* 
Kent, George F.* 
Kimball, Arthur R.* 
Kimball, J. Horace t 
Livermore, Miss Harriet * 
McFarland, Dr. Andrew* 
Metcalf , Harry B.* 
Moore, Jacob B.f 
Moore, John W.f 
Nelson, Mary S.i- 
Phalen, Rev. Frank L.t 

151 



Proctor, Miss Ednah D.t 
Rankin, Rev. J. E., D. D.t 
Reed, Rev. George H.t 
Roberts, Rev. Dan'l C, D. D.t 
Stone, Rev. T. D. P.t 
Swain, Rev. Leonard* 
Sanborn, Miss S. F.t 
Thompson, J. R.t 
Upham, Nathaniel G.t 
Wheeler, Charles L.* 
Woolson, Mrs. Abba Gooldt 

Native of Concord. t Resident of Concord. 



ERRATA. 

Pages 14 and 28, author's name, should read John W. Moore. 

Page 17, author's name should read Rev. Ezra E. Adams, D. D. 

Page 55, author's name should read Albert H. Bailey. 

Pages 88 and 92, author's name should read Mrs. Lucy J. H. Frost. 

Page 96, author's name should read J. R. Thompson. 

Page 104, author's nam should read Dr. Andrew McFarland. 



152 









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